Spellbound
by ShrapnelGirl
Summary: Iceland is cursed by an elven queen and now turns into his evil other self every full moon. But things are not that simple and soon it's a race against time that could affect Iceland's life forever - and trigger the end of the world. Dark!Iceland, Human!Puffin, Nordic Eight (!) and an unorthodox portrayal of normal-Iceland from the eyes of an actual Icelander. More info inside.
1. Prologue

_**Story:** Spellbound_

_**Author:** ShrapnelGirl_

_**Exclaimer:** All characters belong to Hidekaz Himaruya, not me!  
_

_**Author's comments:** This is a little fanfic idea I got one evening and just couldn't rest until I has this prologue out on paper! I have an idea for the first chapter, but not so much after that. Please let me know if you are interested in reading the first chapter. I'm planning on having this story include Dark!Iceland, Human!Puffin and an unorthodox portrayal of normal-Iceland from the eyes of an actual Icelander. Also a typical Hetalia world-meeting-gone-wrong, wery perplexed Nordic five and a bunch of other nations being silly. Story might get angsty/romantic/etc. Rating might also go up, depending on what I'll actually write. _

_But please, don't let me hold you any longer. Enjoy the story!_

_**Update 31.03.2013:** Cover for Spellbound was made by **Silverblueroses** (u/2432057) (silverblueroses. deviant art . com)  
_

* * *

_Prologue - Icelandic highlands, winter of 1263  
_

Iceland felt a sharp pain in his chest when the elven queen turned the blade of the sword. She had stabbed him with it; she had actually walked up towards him and stabbed him. Iceland fell to his knees. He could feel the strength of his body draining out of him. The elven queen pulled out the sword, making Iceland groan loudly. He coughed blood. Blood also flowed from the wound, colouring the snow beneath him red. The elven queen threw her sword into the snow where it quickly got buried by the raging blizzard of the Icelandic highlands. Her eyes burned with untamed fury.

"Your betrayal shall cost you deeply," she said. Her fair voice boomed with supernatural strength, momentarily drowning out even the wailings of the northern wind. Her wild hair danced with the storm, in front of her face, creating reflections of dark shadows in her eyes - Iceland could have sworn those shadows were the silhouettes of the land wights, watching him from the eyes of the elven queen. It must have been the blood loss that created illusions in Iceland's mind. The land wights hadn't been interested in showing their faces for over 200 years.

"You swore to safeguard this land," The queen reminded Iceland. "You swore your allegiance to the Hidden People in the battle against the human invasion. You swore to always fight for independence, for magic and for the gods of old. You took the _name_ of this country, said you _were_ this country, that you were Iceland itself." The elven queen now had tears in her eyes. "You said you would be my king," she said, almost too low for Iceland to hear it.

Iceland lowered his eyes. He could not meet the elven queen's accusative gaze. He knew he was guilty of every charge. She had the full right to be angry.

"Look at me!" the elven queen demanded. Iceland involuntarily obeyed, looking back into her eyes. They stung his soul like the sword had stung him only moments before - only the queen's gaze was much worse. "Do you know what you have done?" She didn't wait for Iceland's answer, but carried forth. "You have succumbed to the humans who now wreak havoc upon the homes of the hidden, claiming our houses of stones and of hills are their to dig up and break. This land now belongs to a foreign king - and a foreign religion."

Iceland felt his pain grow with every word. It was true. It was all true. He had failed to guard his land and now it was a country of Christian humans under a Norwegian king. All the mystical creatures of his sacred land had been run out of their natural habitats and were forced to live in the highlands, on the black beaches or the black desserts. Iceland had broken every promise he had made to his people, the _hidden people_, and his queen. He had failed to become an elf worthy enough to marry the queen and guard the land with her. He had broken her heart.

"I'm sorry," he tried to say, but exhaustion swallowed his words before he could even form them.

"I cannot kill you," the elven queen said with bitter remorse in her voice. "You cannot be killed, nor can you die a natural death. That is the truth I once took as a sign of you belonging to the hidden people. No matter how long your life," the queen said with disgust in her voice. "You do not have what it takes to be an elf." Iceland cringed at those words. He felt as if he was being abandoned by his family. "Instead of death, your punishment shall be one to hunt you forever," the queen said. "You are hereby banished from the elven kingdom forever. I will also put you under the strongest spell I am able to cast. Every full moon you and the one you love the most will transform into the darkest, most evil versions of yourselves and terrorize the world. You will have no control over your actions. You will be plagued by an unquenchable thirst for destruction and lies. No counter-spell will be able to safe you, and so you shall live for the rest of your life."

When the elven queen had spoken those words, she disappeared into the storm. Iceland allowed himself to fall into the blood soaked snow and be buried by the blizzard. He slept for fourteen days and fourteen nights, only to awaken at the next full moon. His blue eyes turned red at the sight of the moon and Iceland immediately felt a compelling lust for mischief. He grabbed the elven queen's sword that lay on the ground beside him and went on a blood hunt. That night he killed an outlaw roaming the highlands and three sheep.

When the moon made way for sunrise, Iceland´s eyes turned back to blue and he felt normal again. Horror at his nightly actions consumed him. And so it would be every full moon for the next 700 years.

* * *

_If you liked this prolouge and would like to read the first chapter, please comment or PM me. Also if you have any ideas or wishes you would like to see fulfilled, don't hesitate to contact me. As I said, I don't have that many ideas for this story yet so I'm open to suggestions! I'm also pretty busy with school so I very likely won't start writing the first chapter until I see there is an interest for it. Also feel free to let me know if there are any spelling mistakes or anything in the text.  
_

_I got the idea for Iceland's eyes turning between blue and red from Himaruya changing his eyes from red to blue in his official design. I think the different eye-colours fit well with Iceland's two personalities: the normal blue eyed Iceland and the dark spellbound Iceland with his red eyes and mischievious grin. What do you think?  
_


	2. The Great Dilemma

_**Story:**__ Spellbound_

_**Author:**__ ShrapnelGirl_

_**Exclaimer:**__ All characters belong to Hidekaz Himaruya, not me!_

_**Author's comments:**__ Here's the first chapter as promised! I was rather surprised at the attention the prologue got, but I'm also very happy. I hope I can entertain you guys as much as I entertain myself with this story. I have thought about it a bit more and have some ideas, but you guys are still free to suggest anything you would like to see in the story (like characters, scenes and such). _

_Thank you everyone who faved, followed and commented! _

_I hope this chapter isn't too long-winded, but I had a lot of information that I needed to fit for the story to actually be able to begin. I think this and the next chapter might be a bit slow, then the story begins for real – I promise!_

_Don't let me hold you any longer. Enjoy the story!_

* * *

_Chapter 1 – The Great Dilemma – Icelandic highlands, summer of 1859_

Iceland startled when something shot past him. Reflexively he reached for the dagger in his belt, but relaxed when he saw it was just a white-tailed eagle. It was carrying a mouse in its beak – probably a mother bringing food to her young. Iceland wiped the sweat off his forehead and stopped for a while to catch his breath. He'd been walking for four days. It wouldn't be long now, Iceland could already see the place where the glacier ended and made way for a black dessert and one lonely mountain. The mountain was his destination. He had started his journey early and thus had plenty of time to enjoy nature and reassemble his thoughts.

Only, Iceland could find no peace in him to enjoy the vast landscape or even to think calmly. The thoughts razed through his mind, never coming to a stop. Iceland felt too restless to pause for long. He started walking again. It helped a little to focus on moving forward; to focus on not losing his footing on the moss grown lava field he had to pass before reaching the dessert. Iceland deliberately drew longer breaths of the cold air from the glacier than he needed, trying to calm himself with the rush of excessive oxygen.

It didn't work. Iceland was just as nervous as before. He really was in deep trouble.

Over a hundred years had passed since the Napoleonic Wars and the kingdom of Denmark-Norway had been broken apart. Iceland was now governed solely by Denmark, a nation with a wounded pride from losing his „family", and who was even more wounded by the Icelandic people's struggle for independence. Iceland himself wasn't really in for the struggle, he had stopped caring for independence when he was banished from the kingdom of the hidden people. But in the wake of European nationalism, Iceland's people yearned for the freedom of their land. They were finally waking up from their sleep, finally starting to seek out a nobler cause than mere survival. Hope had been born, and with it the focus of the Icelandic people shifted from dreaming up stories to actually doing things. The sleeping people had stopped dreaming and now worked hard to make their dreams into reality. It was this that led to Iceland's current troubles.

You see, in Iceland there were many legends that were told and retold again and again. Most of those stories served to frighten people from doing dangerous things: Don't leave your children unattended, they will be kidnapped by elves; don't wander around in the dark, you will be killed by ghosts; don't enter the lava fields at night, you will be eaten by night-trolls...

Some people believed in those legends, others thought themselves too reasonable to believe such nonsense. Of all the stories, folklore and legends there was only one that people agreed on probably being true: The legend of the red eyed monster that roamed the highlands on full moons and devoured anyone who dared enter the black desserts during that time. For almost 700 years, that popular bed-time story had kept people safe, but the rationalists' numbers had grown over the years and now more and more people dared travel across the highlands during full moons, claiming that there was no monster – and no danger.

Already, this had led to the death of 13 people. The latest victims were a family of five that had decided to take a shortcut on their way from Egilsstaðir to Reykjavík, where they hoped to catch a boat to the Icelandic settlement in Canada to make a new life for themselves. The oldest child was 11 years old, the youngest only 5. News of the family's death had shaken the Icelandic community and soon people demanded that something be done. They pressed for an investigation.

In an attempt to calm the Icelandic people and hopefully gain a little good will towards his kingdom, the king of Denmark ordered for an agent to be sent to Iceland to investigate the deaths. As a symbolic gesture, the personification of Denmark himself was sent to carry forth the investigation. He was due to arrive later this month, and Iceland was to be his escort.

That arrangement could prove catastrophic for Iceland. The reason was simple: _he_ was the red eyed monster that roamed the highlands during full moons. And he was supposed to escort Denmark across the highlands, searching for himself, at exactly the time he would be turning into his darker self? No matter how much Iceland thought about the matter, he could find no solution that didn't end with him taking Denmark prisoner or selling him to the night-trolls as a rare food-delivery. Now _that_, although possibly manageable, would in the long term pose more problems than it would solve.

Iceland sighed. He needed a solution, and he needed it quick. Hopefully the solitude of his cave would help him think.

Iceland reached his destination, a small cave in the lonesome mountain, at sunset; which, during summer in Iceland, took place long after midnight. The wind blew from the north, cool and fresh. It was an unusually cold summer, but Iceland hardly felt it. He was used to the low temperature of his country. Having prepared his cave and eaten, Iceland lay down in his bed of straw and wool and closed his eyes.

He was too agitated to fall asleep. Instead he let his mind wander, hoping to find the solution to his troubles in his inner consciousness.

It was a wonder how Iceland had managed to hide his curse for so long. For 700 years he had dreaded each full moon, often so much he lost his appetite for days. Iceland ritualistically followed the moon's cycle of absence, diverse sickle shapes and perfect, horrible roundness. The moon controlled his entire life – the curse had devoured him, chewed him and spit him out a nervous wretch.

Whenever Iceland could he had studied ways to overcome his tragic condition. He had studied magic, religion, folklore, modern science, astrology... He had spent an entire year travelling the world and searching for counter-spells or potions to lift his curse. So far, nothing had worked. When Iceland had exhausted his options he had tried to reach the elfen queen. The proud nation was ready to kneel at her feet and beg, but she would not heed his cries and calls. The kingdom of the hidden people remained closed to him. It was sometime in the 18th century that Iceland lost all hope of recovery. And then _the Mist Hardships_ happened – the big fat crown upon Iceland's misery.

Iceland turned to his side, trying to find a better sleeping position. He forced himself to stop thinking so negatively. That wasn't going to help him now, thinking of the Mist Hardships and failed attempts at freeing himself from the spell that bound him. Iceland needed to think of ways to stop Denmark from finding out his secret.

Would bribery work? Threats?

Iceland didn't think so. Although Denmark seemed pretty simple most of the time, he was in fact dangerously smart – smart enough to play the jolly drunkard who occasionally bashed someone's head in with his battle-axe. People frequently underestimated Denmark, and before they knew it they were stuck in his web. Iceland had made the mistake once before – only _once_.

No. Iceland would need to think of another solution. A solution that didn't include Denmark knowing Iceland's secret. If Denmark so much as suspected Iceland to be hiding something from him, he wouldn't stop until he both knew the secret and had brought Iceland even further under his control. That man was desperate not to lose yet another 'family member'.

_Think!_ Iceland ordered himself. _Think!_

* * *

It was a restless night, and unfortunately it was also an unfruitful one. The next day brought forth no solution to Iceland's problems. Before he knew it, the night of the full moon was upon him.

The reason Iceland went through all that trouble of travelling to his cave on foot, was simple: It would take his crazed, darker self more than one moonlit night to reach the nearest human settlement. By residing in his cave when full moon drew near, Iceland had managed to keep casualties to a minimum for the last centuries, but with more and more people travelling the highlands, that method was becoming dangerous.

Even tonight the number of casualties grew.

Iceland killed two German scientists that were measuring the country and making maps of the mountains and glaciers. He trashed their appliances and research before burning their tent and clothing. Iceland also butchered a lamb that had strayed too far away from the herd. When the cloud was lifted from his mind at sunrise, it was time for him to head back into town and finish preparations for Denmark's arrival. But not before he had washed the blood off his hands and clothing in the nearest river. Only the dried blood in his ashen hair wouldn't come out – but that was all right. No one in Reykjavík would ever suspect their own nation of being a ruthless murderer, not with that little evidence.

In a way, that was too bad. Perhaps, if Iceland got locked up, innocent lives could be saved.

* * *

When he greeted Denmark at the harbour of Reykjavík, Iceland still hadn't found a way to keep his secret. And what was even worse, Denmark didn't travel alone. Standing by his side was Iceland's little sister, Faeroe Islands, or Fae like she was called by most people.

_Skrambinn,_ Iceland cursed in his mind. _Now I'll need to deal with both of them._

Denmark grinned when he caught sight of Iceland.

"Icy boy," he said and shook Iceland's hand firmly. "You've grown bigger since the last time I saw you..."

"Don't say that," Fae warned in a low, shy voice. "Icy hates being reminded about how little he is..."

She got scared and hid behind Denmark when Iceland shot the two of them an angry look.

"I can't remember having agreed to bring Fae along," Iceland said dryly. He looked at Fae, stern-faced as always. "She'll be in danger – and she might also slow us down. It would be better if she just left. Right now."

"Aw, man," Denmark whistled. "_That_ was rude. Even for you, Ice-cube. Just look, Fae is almost crying..."

"Am not!" Fae protested. Her lips shivered - she was practically sobbing. Iceland could see tears forming in her eyes. She seemed shocked by the cold-hearted greeting.

"Is that really the way to greet your little sister after not having seen her for years?" Denmark commented.

"I've only spoken the truth," Iceland said, unfazed by his little sister crying. "We are hunting down a monster," he reminded Denmark. "A bloodthirsty monster that has killed many people already, and that will continue to kill unless we stop it. Bringing Fae along will only serve to endanger her – and I will not be held responsible for her injuries."

"She can help," Denmark said. "Fae is more bad-ass than you give her credit for..."

"I sincerely doubt that," Iceland said, folding his arms defensively.

People were gathering around the three nations, listening to their argument with the enthusiasm only small-town folks have for gossip. Iceland could see hope light their faces when he mentioned hunting down the infamous monster, as well as concern for the little girl that presumably was going to tag along for the dangerous mission. Denmark had noticed this as well.

"Let's not discuss this here," he said. "Fae and I are tired. We caught some rough seas on our way from the Faeroe Islands and we're really worn out now. If you would lead us to our rooms..."

Iceland nodded. Denmark was right. It wasn't polite to argue out in public. After making sure the two travellers were following him, Iceland started off towards his house. It was smack in the middle of town, right next to the Icelandic congress building. He offered to carry Fae's bag but she refused, clenching her fingers around the handle and staring down on the ground with anger in her facial features. Iceland's words had hurt her. He would have to make it up to her somehow if he wanted to preserve their good political relationship.

When they reached his house, Iceland showed Denmark and Fae to their rooms. They were only small, Iceland's house wasn't that big to begin with, but the two travellers assured Iceland that they were happy just to have a place to sleep for the night.

"After all," Denmark said. "We'll be sleeping in worse places once we start the hunt for the monster."

Iceland bid goodnight early and went to his bedroom. He sat down on his bed, hid his face in his hands and cursed inwardly.

_Things are getting difficult_, he thought. _I need to figure out what to do... Otherwise I might end up in confinement or even worse: I could end up hurting Denmark and my sister._

* * *

___**Author's comments:**_ If you liked this chapter... please let me know! Your interest motivates me, and your ideas do too. If you didn't like this chapter but are excited about the idea behind the story, please let me know what I can do better. I really want to satisfy you guys with this story!


	3. The Investigation

_**Story:**__ Spellbound_

_**Author:**__ ShrapnelGirl_

_**Exclaimer:**__ All characters belong to Hidekaz Himaruya, not me!_

_**Author's comments:**__ It's the second chapter already! I'm sorry if it's a little slow, I wanted to show Iceland's, Denmark's and Fae's relationship as well as continue the story... Thank you everyone who faved, followed and commented!_

_Enjoy the story!_

* * *

_Chapter 2 – The Investigation – Reykjavík and the Icelandic highlands, summer of 1859_

"Where do you want to start the search?" Iceland asked Denmark. The trio were walking down the steep Mt. Kambar with the beautiful sunset gently caressing the top of their heads. Iceland had insisted they go on foot. His argument was that the horses might get injured by the monster, and also, Denmark was getting fat. That last remark had earned Iceland a slap upside the head, as well as Denmark also insisting on them going by foot despite Fae's protests. In the flat, fruitful lands before them, columns of steam rose from the earth and herds of horses and cows feasted on the tall grass. The walk from Reykjavík had taken the three nordics an entire day, and now they were finally at their starting point. "Do we head the hard way through Laugarvatn or walk the slightly easier, flatter way through Landmannalaugar?" Iceland asked.

"It depends," Denmark said. "Which way is more likely to get us to the hunting-grounds of the monster first?"

"Laugarvatn," Iceland said. "From there we'll head to Kerlingarfjöll: Old-Crone mountains. But only if we walk fast and don't stop too much."

Fae giggled. "Old-Crone mountains. That's a really funny name," she said. She had regained her good mood after Iceland sincerely apologized to her for his rude greeting. After listening to Denmark ramble on and on about how Fae could be helpful during the monster hunt, Iceland also had no choice but to surrender and allow her to tag along. Fae had specialized in healing magic and bird catching and other useful skills since Iceland had last seen her, and that was damned useful on a monster hunt, at least if they got attacked or got hungry and needed some birds to eat – at least that's what Denmark told Iceland.

Later, when Fae had gone to sleep and Iceland and Denmark were drinking ale on the roof of Iceland's house in Reykjavík, Denmark told Iceland the real reason why he wanted Fae to come along.

"Our family is falling apart," he told Iceland. "Norway has left us, you and Fae hardly talk to each other anymore... Greenland refuses to talk to me. I guess I thought a good old-fashioned monster hunt was a good way to bring what's rest of us together again... Apart from Greenland who didn't want to come. And everyone who's already left us..."

Denmark took a huge swig of his ale. His face bore a sad expression, an expression that made Iceland almost feel bad about his people's struggle for independence.

"I guess... people just need their space, you know," Iceland said. "To rule their own lives. It's as my people always say: _Heimskur er heimakær maður._ You can't grow up, learn, mature, unless you leave home behind and explore life on your own." Iceland didn't know why he had suddenly started talking about the ways of his people. He didn't often do that. Was he trying to justify his people's yearning for freedom?

Iceland stared into his jug, swirled his ale around. He was a disgrace of a country. He felt no connection to his people. Of course, he had always avoided making any connection with anyone, in fear he might start loving them and thus bring them under his curse. And now he was apologizing to Denmark for the honest will of his people? Iceland hung his head in shame.

Denmark hummed.

"You might be right," he said, his eyes no less sad than before. "Perhaps everyone is leaving me in order to grow-up." He stayed silent for a moment. Iceland drank the rest of his ale, let his head rest on Denmark's shoulder and closed his eyes. He was starting to feel really sleepy. "I don't want them to grow-up," Denmark whispered, almost too low for Iceland to hear him. "I want them all to stay with me – forever."

Iceland pretended he hadn't heard anything. He pretended to already be asleep.

* * *

Going the hard way, the way riddled with hills, mountains and fields of uneven lava, was probably not the best decision. Neither Denmark nor Fae were used to such rough terrain: Denmark because his land was mostly flat and Fae because she lived on several, small islands that rarely took so long to travel across. Iceland frequently ran ahead to make sure the way was safe and not blocked by an erupting volcano or anything. At least, that's what he told Denmark and Fae. In truth, Iceland found his two travel companions a tad too slow. His agitated state of mind made him want to run across the mountains and never stop, run as far away from his two companions as possible.

Iceland should have listened to his instincts. But he didn't. Instead he waited for Denmark and Fae to make their way to him. He focused completely on getting the two slowpokes to their destination, not daring to think of what would happen once they got there. He had a plan - a plan that might easily go very, very wrong.

Slowly but surely, Iceland led his two companions far away from human settlements, deep into the barren wilds of his country.

The full moon was drawing nearer.

* * *

"Are we there yet?" Fae moaned, completely out of breath. She put her suitcase down with a loud thud and practically threw herself onto a bed of moss. "I don't think I can take this any longer."

"We are almost there," Iceland said. "Only a little more. If we hurry, we might even get there tonight."

"Aw, do we really need to hurry this much?" Denmark groaned. He let himself fall down beside Fae, his hair was wet with sweat and hanging into his eyes despite being in its usual, gravity-defying state of 'awesomeness', as Denmark chose to call it. "Can't we rest a bit... For Fae's sake?"

Iceland stifled a smile. Denmark still tried to play the tough guy, despite having moaned and groaned the entire way while Fae hardly made a sound.

"We must hurry if we want to make it to the monster's hunting grounds before full moon," Iceland reminded Denmark. "Or do you want to wait in the highlands for an entire month for another chance to catch the monster?"

"No way!" Denmark yelled. "_That_ I don't want!"

"Then we should hurry," Iceland said. He looked up at the sky. It was clear and blue, with no signs of clouds anywhere. "The full moon is tonight. There will be no clouds shield the moon, so the monster will be completely out of control."

"You seem to know a lot about this monster, Icy," Fae said, impressed - and completely and blissfully unaware of how horribly true her statement was.

Iceland forced himself to smile.

"That's because I have lived in this country longer than it has," he said. Fae nodded.

"Of course," she said. "You're a lot smarter than some monster, Icy."

"Yeah," Iceland said, turning his face away. "I sure am."

* * *

The last bit of the way to Iceland's little cave, the tired trio tried to motivate each other through a friendly banter. Well, at least _two_ out of _three_ were arguing very loudly about something Iceland regarded as trivial.

"No way! I so totally won our last eating competition!" Denmark yelled so loudly that he scared a fox that was sleeping on a rock. "I ate like, a _hundred_ smørrebrød with _loads_ of toppings. A ton more toppings than either of you."

"If my memory serves me right," Fae said. "_I _was the one who ate the most smørrebrød. And I had an _entire fish_ as my topping."

"An entire fish isn't a qualified topping for a smørrebrød," Denmark retorted.

"Sure is," Fae said. "Everything can be a topping for smørrebrød."

"Na-ah," Denmark said. "I should know. I _invented_ the damn thing! Icy, what do you think? Who won the last eating competition?"

Iceland, who had been deep in thought, replied a bit absent-mindedly.

"I can't remember."

"Yes you do!" Fae said, actually excited about the whole argument. "You remember that I won, don't you? You even congratulated me afterwards! Iceland? Are you listening to me?"

"We are here," Iceland said. The trio stopped at the edge of the black dessert. "That mountain over there. It's where the monster has its layer."

"All right!" Denmark cheered. "Then let's go and kill ourselves a monster. It will be just like old times. You guys remember? When we used to go out troll-killing and plundering and stuff together?"

Out of nowhere, Iceland really couldn't tell where from exactly – perhaps out of her dress? – Fae pulled a small sword and a shield with the picture of a sheep on it. The sheep had a flower behind its ear and a fish in its mouth.

"Sure I remember!" Fae said, swinging her little sword around excitedly. "I got to kill the king of England!"

Seeing how enthusiastic Fae was, Denmark also got out his own weapons. "Yeah! Monster hunt!" he screamed. "Let's go give that bastard a big-ass whoppin' he won't ever forget!"

When Iceland did nothing, his two companions stared at him with a funny look on their faces.

"Icy?" Fae said. "Why aren't you donning your weapons?"

"I don't need them," Iceland said.

"Don't be foolish," Denmark said, lowering his weapons slightly. "That monster has killed a lot of people already. You want to add yourself to that list?"

"I don't need weapons," Iceland said. "We still have time. The moon hasn't risen yet." Before either of the other Nordics had a chance to do anything, Iceland ran ahead to the lonely mountain.

"Icy! Wait!" Denmark yelled.

"You'll get yourself killed!" Fae screamed.

Iceland didn't look back, but he assumed that the two of them were running behind him. He made sure they didn't catch him. Iceland needed to get to the cave before them. He needed a minute to himself in his cave before he could do what he had to do. The cave that had seen so much of his suffering. Hopefully, some of that suffering could be eased after tonight.

When Iceland got to his cave he was well ahead of Denmark and Fae. Through his own heavy breathing he could hear them yell at him to stop, to wait for them. Iceland closed his eyes, raised his head and focused on catching his breath. He absorbed the coolness and the dark of the cave, trying to brace himself for what was to come.

This cave had guarded Iceland's dirty little secret for centuries. He had spent many a night there, sometimes months when the weather was too bad to travel back and forth to Reykjavík. Here, Iceland had lain in his bed of hay, shivering with cold and feeling as lost and alone as ever. Here he had battled his desire to reach out to people, to let his secret be known.

_Well,_ Iceland thought to himself. The footsteps of the two Nordics were getting closer_. It's all over now._

Iceland opened his eyes and turned around just as Denmark and Fae entered the cave. Behind them, a bright orange sunset filled the entrance to the cave with gleaming light, turning the two Nordics into fully armed shadows.

"Damn it Iceland," Denmark growled and shook his sword. "What was that all about? You could have put us all in danger!"

Iceland shook his head. "No," he said. "There is no danger. Not yet." Before either one of his companions could say anything more, Iceland reached for his back-pack and pulled out a long piece of chain. He let one end of it fall to the ground with a loud, sharp noise, whilst offering the other end to his two fellow nations.

"Tie me up," he ordered.

Denmark and Fae gawked.

"What do you..." Denmark started, but trailed off when Iceland flashed him a smile.

Iceland was sure that his smile looked just as sad as he was feeling at that moment.

"Congratulations," he said, calmly. "You have found your monster. Now tie me up before I kill you both."

* * *

_**Author's comments:**__ Here it is! Iceland's big revelation! Seriously guys, I hope it's up to your expectations. I also promise not to have any more chapters set in the Icelandic Highlands anymore – apart from the next one. I'm sure you are all sick of my descriptions of nature and travels. Just a couple of chapters more, then the story really begins. ;)_

_If you liked this chapter... please let me know! Your interest motivates me, and your ideas do too. If you didn't like this chapter but are excited about the idea behind the story, please let me know what I can do better. I really want to satisfy you guys with this story!_


	4. Monster

_**Story:**__ Spellbound_

_**Author:**__ ShrapnelGirl_

_**Exclaimer:**__ All characters belong to Hidekaz Himaruya._

_**Author's comments:**__ Here's the third chapter of Spellbound. Those who are waiting for brotherly love between Iceland and Norway, don't worry. It'll appear two or three chapters from now. Those who are waiting for human!Puffin's appearance will also see him in a few chapters. I hope you enjoy the direction this story is going in!_

_Thank you everyone who faved, followed and commented! A special thanks to those who voiced their desires for the future chapters of this story. A lot more characters will show up along the road, and _you_ can influence what characters that are – just comment or PM me!_

* * *

_Chapter 3 – Monster – Icelandic highlands, summer of 1859 / Reykjavík, winter of 1859_

"Kill us?" Denmark asked, confused. "What in the world do you mean?"

Iceland sighed. "Don't act as if you can't believe it," he said. "Both of you should have guessed by now. I led you here, to my lair, so that you could see my secret for yourselves." Iceland spun the chain around in his hands, keeping his gaze fixed on the gently swaying end of it.

Silence followed his words. Denmark coughed.

"You're the monster?" He asked in disbelief. "Icy, what's going on here?"

"We don't have much time," Iceland said. He raised his gaze. The blinding light of the sunset had started to dim. Iceland could now see the shocked face of his companions. "Tie me up," he repeated. "I'll tell you guys everything later. But right now we need to think about your safety."

"You are only joking. Right?" Fae said. Of course she didn't believe her own words. After all, Iceland rarely joked, let alone about a thing like this. Fae saw the serious look on her brother's face and trembled.

"If I manage to break out of my bonds," Iceland continued, "you guys need to have your weapons ready." His voice was eerily calm. He had been waiting for this to happen. For 700 years he had been waiting for this to happen. "Strike my legs first. I'm a lot faster than you guys on this terrain. Remember, this is my country, and I know it like the back of my hands. Don't try to run, don't try to hide. Take me out."

"Icy... Brother," Fae said. Tears were forming in her eyes. "Stop this. This isn't funny."

Iceland looked his little sister straight in the eyes. "It isn't supposed to be," he said.

Denmark let his battle axe fall to the ground. He moved towards Iceland with no expression on his face. Fae and Iceland watched him. Would he try to knock some sense into Iceland? Or would he believe him?

Denmark stopped in front of his colony. His eyes grew hard and determined.

"Hand me that chain," Denmark said. "And stay still. I don't want you to loosen the bonds. Is there any place in this cave we can fasten you to?"

"Don't tell me you believe him, Denmark!" Fae begged. "He's just messing around with us. He's not the monster. He hasn't killed anyone since..."

"Last month," Iceland finished off for her. "Two scientists. And the month before that I murdered a family of five. They had little kids with them." He watched expressionless as Fae fell to the ground, hiding her face in her hands, shoulders shaking.

"Quit your sobbing, Fae," Denmark said. He rummaged around in Iceland's bag until he found cuffs for the hands and feet, and one for the neck. "C'mere Icy-boy," he said. "Put that on."

Iceland did as he was told. Fae's cries grew louder. Iceland and Denmark did their best to ignore her. The cave got darker.

"We need to hurry," Iceland said. "The sun is almost down."

Denmark fastened the chains expertly – a remnant of his activities during the Middle Ages and earlier. When he was done he said: "Haven't done that in some time now."

"There's an iron ring on that wall," Iceland said. "It won't break easily."

Denmark nodded. He lifted the bound Iceland up and carried him over to the iron ring. "Stand like this," he ordered. He fastened the loose ends of the chains to the ring. "Here you go, that should hold you."

"Thanks," Iceland said. Denmark helped him sit down.

Fae was still sobbing, quietly now.

"Calm down, Fae," Iceland said with as much care in his voice as he was capable of – which wasn't much. But what little affection there was, it surprised Fae enough to stop her sobbing. "I'll tell you guys what happened," Iceland said. "I..."

A silver gleam entered the dark cave. Immediately Iceland's eyes were drawn to it. The gleam moved deeper inside the cave, slowly.

"The moon," Denmark said. "It's rising." He did a double check of Iceland's bonds. "Tell us what happened, right now, before the moonlight gets to you."

"It's too late," Iceland said. "I'll tell you tomorrow. Get your weapons ready."

Denmark and Fae took their positions in front of Iceland, not too close, swords, axes and shields in hand. Fae dried the tears off her face with her sleeve. The light of the moon now lit most of the cave except for the deepest end where Iceland was fastened. It threw Denmark's and Fae's shadows – as the moonlight etched closer to Iceland, so did their shadows.

"If things get dangerous, aim for my heart," Iceland said. "It won't kill me, but it will slow me down long enough for you two to escape."

"Will do," Denmark said. Iceland still couldn't read his expression. Was Denmark angry? Sad? Or did he just not care at all about Iceland's curse?

A tear shimmered in the corner of Den's left eye. He quickly blinked it away, but Iceland had seen it. Somehow, it comforted him a little.

It was time.

The moonlight crawled up Iceland's legs, his torso, his neck. When it hit his eyes they turned a deep, bloodthirsty red. Iceland immediately felt his control over his body weaken, disappear. The monster growled. Dark-Iceland flashed his teeth in a terrible grin.

"C'mere darlings," he whispered, his facial features distorted with insanity. "Come to me, I promise I won't hurt you…" Those words were followed by a malevolent laughter. Dark-Iceland rattled his chains. "We're all friends here. Loosen the bonds."

Denmark and Fae took a step back, their eyes wide with horror. Dark-Iceland smiled. He reached out a chained hand towards Fae.

"Little sister," he whispered. "Be kind. Let your big brother out. I promise I won't hurt you."

"Don't!" Denmark warned when Fae lowered her sword. "The monster has taken control. Don´t believe a word it says."

"I wasn't going to," Fae replied and raised her sword. "I was just surprised that it spoke."

"Oh, I can do a lot more than that," Dark-Iceland said. Without warning he leapt forward, aiming for Fae. She screamed and jumped back, but Iceland's chains stopped him. He tried again, and pulled his bonds with all his might, but he was stuck.

"Cowards," he said. "Trembling over there when I am chained down. And you call yourselves former Vikings? Hah!" Dark-Iceland spat on the floor.

"Don't worry Fae," Denmark said. "The chains will hold. He hasn't gotten much stronger, just crazier."

"I-I know," Fae said. She still backed away, pointing her sword at the red-eyed monster in front of her.

Denmark sat down on the ground, with his axe beside him ready to be grabbed any second.

"This will be a long night," he sighed. "Damn you, Iceland. I came here to kill a monster, not to babysit it."

* * *

During the course of the night, Dark-Iceland tried repeatedly to convince the two Nordics to let him loose. He lied, he threatened, he rattled his chains. He even told them the bitter truth. It was the cruelest thing he had ever done.

"I have never loved you. Neither of you," Dark-Iceland growled. "The usual me would never say that to you though. He'd play pretend forever if that meant that you would leave him alone. Why do you think he never told you about his curse? Why do you think he always lied and told you he was fine?" Dark-Iceland laughed a deep, satisfied laugh when he saw that he had gained his captors' attention. "Why do you think I want nothing more than to kill you both right now?" he whispered.

Den and Fae wouldn't budge. They huddled together, Denmark stroking Fae's hair to comfort her, and pretended not to hear a word. But Iceland could see on the hurt expressions on their faces that they had heard every word. And they would remember it.

They would never look at Iceland the same way.

When they asked him about that the next day, Iceland could only look away, giving no answers. Den and Fae never voiced that question again. They didn't need to. Iceland's silence had confirmed their fears.

It was an utterly defeated trio that made their way back to Reykjavík. None of them spoke a word the entire journey, even though it lasted days. When they reached the capital, Denmark locked Iceland away in the cellar of his own home.

"I'll try to get the other Nordics here," Denmark said. "This matter requires a meeting of the entire family – even though they probably won't attend, just to spite me."

* * *

Due to some miracle, Denmark somehow managed to gather all the remaining Nordics in Iceland's home in Reykjavík. It was now winter, some months since Denmark and Fae had experienced firsthand Iceland's secret. They had hardly spoken to him since then. Denmark because he wasn't there and Fae… Iceland suspected that his little sister had grown to hate him.

Fae had been charged with taking care of Iceland while Denmark sailed back to Scandinavia and tried to convince the other Nordics of making the long and dangerous journey to Iceland. Every day, Fae would bring Iceland food to his prison in the cellar. She'd do the housework, make his bed, empty his bed-pan – all without uttering a single word.

Iceland understood that she found it difficult to look at him after all that had transpired. To make it easier for her to fulfill her duties he placed himself on a chair in one corner of the room, facing the wall, and remained completely still while she went about her business in the small, dark cellar. Iceland usually didn't move until he heard her close the door. Sometimes he tried to steal a peek of her, but returned to his emotionless state when he heard her stop abruptly at his slightest motion.

Fae clearly thought her brother was nothing more than just a terrible monster. Iceland couldn't blame her. During full moons, it was Fae's duty to fasten Iceland securely to his bed, lock the cellar door and stand guard outside his prison. Already she had gone through several scream-filled nights of horror, hearing Iceland's derailed self curse and threaten and scream at her how much he hated her guts. After each night she grew more nervous around him, flinching at his every move. Iceland stifled the need to look at her. He tried his best to keep completely still whenever she was in his room. Although he didn't love her it didn't mean he didn't care about her. What little love he allowed himself to harbor towards his sister tore his heart whenever she ran out of his room to compose herself after he had accidentally coughed or moved.

Fae was scared half to death of him. Iceland spent most of his time in confinement trying to convince himself that this horrible fact didn't affect him in any way. The rest of the time he wondered if the other Nordics would vote to have him killed, or to keep him locked up for the rest of his life. Neither option sounded very good. Iceland didn't care much though. He was tired of upholding his sick masquerade, of killing horrified bystanders while pretending to be a sweet, innocent little boy that loved his family. Now that his secret was out, Iceland would finally get some rest.

Even though it meant that everyone would now hate him.

The eight nations were gathered around Iceland's dinner table. On one long-end sat Denmark's three colonies: Iceland, Fae and Greenland. Facing them were Sweden, Åland and Finland. At the opposite ends of the table, Denmark and Norway sat with folded arms and stiff expressions on their faces. The two still hadn't made up since the kingdom of Denmark-Norway had dissipated. Iceland wondered how Denmark had managed to convince Norway of attending this meeting.

Judging from the concerned look Norway flashed his brother every once in a while, Iceland guessed that Norway hadn't come just because Denmark asked him to. How much had Denmark told his former companion about Iceland's curse? Did his brother know what sort of a monster Iceland was?

"Right," Denmark said. "Since we are all here, I declare this family-emergency-meeting now begun!" As a further emphasis to his words, Denmark banged the shaft of his axe on the floor.

Iceland looked around him, pondering. Would his family decide to kill him once they found out just how persistent his curse was? Or would they decide to rather lock him up forever? The cold, grim faces of his fellow Nordics gave nothing away. Only Fae had a different look on her face – a look of absolute horror. Even though Greenland sat between them, Fae had moved her chair as close to Denmark as she possibly could, which was also as far away from Iceland as she could go.

Even just sitting next to him, with an entire squad of former Vikings around to protect her, made Iceland's little sister shiver with fear.

At once, Iceland hoped they would decide to kill him.

* * *

_**Author's comments:**__ If you liked this chapter... please let me know! Your interest motivates me, and your ideas do too. If you didn't like this chapter but are excited about the idea behind the story, please let me know what I can do better._


	5. Betrayal

_**Story:**__ Spellbound_

_**Author:**__ ShrapnelGirl_

_**Exclaimer:**__ All characters belong to Hidekaz Himaruya._

_**Author's comments:**__ Here's the fourth chapter of Spellbound. I guess I lied in the last chapter. Already, Norway and Iceland are being brotherly and full of fluff! Mr. Puffin will appear either next chapter or the one after that. Also, this is my longest chapter to date, with over 5000 words. I hope you enjoy it! And thanks a lot for all the awsome reviews and the unbelievable amount of watches and follows from the last chapter guys!  
_

_Thank you everyone who faved, followed and commented! A special thanks to those who voiced their desires for the future chapters of this story. A lot more characters will show up along the road, and _you_ can influence what characters that are – just comment or PM me!_

* * *

_Chapter 4 – Betrayal – Reykjavík, winter of 1859 / Iceland, settlement and before_

"I-I think Iceland should have the first word…" said a trembling voice. The Nordics looked around the table, none having properly heard to whom the voice belonged. To everyone's surprise, Fae stood up. "Iceland should have the first word," she repeated, her voice no more than a whisper. "He's the one this meeting is about. I think he should get a chance to explain the situation in his own words."

Throughout her short speech Fae never so much as glanced in Iceland's direction. When she sat back down she was still white with fear and clinging to Denmark like a baby polar bear to its mother in a snow storm.

Iceland could feel his insides warm a bit. Of all the Nordics, Fae was the one he had least expected to take his side – partially because the siblings had never really been that close, but also because Fae was the one who had endured the most full-moon-nights, frantically sobbing in front of the door to Iceland's cellar and trying to block out his screams and curses. She knew that he didn't love her.

Yet she had cared for him all those months without ever complaining or slacking off. Could it be that Fae still loved him, even though he was a heartless monster?

Iceland decided to take extra care to stay away from her that day so as not to scare her. He wouldn't speak a single word with her unless there were at least four other nations present. And if they locked him his cellar that night, and if Fae was still the one to take care of him, Iceland would be careful not to move a muscle when she came downstairs to check up on him.

He was sure she would come. For the last couple of nights, Fae had started coming downstairs late at evenings when all her chores for the day were done. She would sit timidly on Iceland´s bed, glancing at him to make sure he was absolutely still on his chair in the corner of the room. When she felt safe enough she opened a book and started reading out loud. The books she read were almost all from a time when most of the Nordics spoke a common tongue. She must have found them in Iceland's library. Iceland was sure that was Fae's way of telling him that he still belonged to the family, no matter what would transpire at the meeting.

If they decided to kill him, Iceland was sure that Fae would read him one last story. If not out of love, then out of pity. Fae was a kind-hearted soul.

And that's why Iceland had always needed to distance himself from her, so as not to begin loving her.

Feeling a little more confident, Iceland fixed the bow around his neck and stood up. He made a show of clearing his throat, locking eyes with everyone at the table, except Fae, and trying to read their expressions.

Greenland had a grim look on her face, but that was nothing new. That girl could be proper scary when she wanted to, and even when she was just deep in thought she seemed standoffish - if not threatening. Åland's usually cocky smile had been replaced by a blank stare at the table. The young boy probably had no idea what to think or how to behave at a family-emergency-meeting, as Denmark had put it. Sweden and Finland seemed determined to uphold their unreadable expressions until they had heard enough to make a decision on the matter. Norway seemed slightly concerned while Denmark flashed Iceland an encouraging smile.

"As you all should know, we are gathered here because of me." At the sound of Iceland's voice, everyone but Fae focused their attention on him. "You have probably heard at least the bare details of my…" Iceland looked for the right word, "predicament." Some nations nodded at those words.

"Go on," Sweden said in his thick accent, arms folded.

Iceland cleared his throat again.

"I'll be frank with you," he said. "I'm tired of hiding this from you, from my people, from the world. I…" Iceland closed his eyes. "I am cursed."

Iceland could feel the tense atmosphere at the table almost dissolve at those words. Sweden and Finland almost let their masks of impartiality crack into faint smiles. They shot each other relieved glances.

"So that's what it is," Norway said. He leaned back in his chair, all tension gone from his body. "Just a curse. Could have told us that sooner…"

Iceland raised his hand to cut his brother off.

"An elven curse," he continued. "A most powerful curse cast by the elven queen herself."

The eyes of the Nordics widened in horror.

"An elf?" Norway said. "Not one of your 'hidden people' I hope?"

Iceland let out a deep sigh.

"I'm afraid so," he said.

"What were you doing messing around with elves?" Åland asked, horrified. Just as the rest of the Nordics, the little boy knew all about how dangerous the elven kind could be. Sweden and Finland had probably taken turns scaring the boy with stories from their homelands – those kinds of stories seldom had a happy ending.

"Yeah, that's what I've been thinking," Denmark said.

Iceland had never gotten to explain more of his situation to Den and Fae than the barest of truths: He had told them that he was cursed, that it had been an elven queen that cursed him and that he turned into a monster every full moon. With Denmark immediately departing for Scandinavia after they got back to Reykjavík and Fae hardly daring to speak to him at all, the two of them knew no more than the rest of the Nordics at this point.

Iceland decided to sit back down in his chair, seeing as his story would be a long one.

"It all happened a long, long time ago," he began his story. "Long before I met any of you, and certainly a long time before I found out that I was a nation..."

* * *

Iceland could remember it like it had been yesterday. His land had been free of humans; nature completely untouched and the weather much colder than it was now. Iceland had spent his days in the forests and meadows that covered his lands back then, plucking berries with chubby kiddy fingers and eating them straight from his palm. He had survived on bird meat, fish, mountain herbs and the occasional arctic fox that he found dead by the shore at the end of winter. Foxes were the only mammals that lived on his island, and they were hard to catch for a young child.

Back then Iceland wore fox pelts and feathers and travelled his country barefoot in search of something to do. His silver hair had reached down to his heels back then, wild and uncombed, but thankfully free of the lice that would trouble him later in life. He had built himself a shelter in the forest. It wasn't a very sturdy one, but it kept most of the wind and rain away.

When Iceland wasn't scavenging for food or basking in the rare heat of the sun, he collected seashells by the seashore, feathers and eggshells and stones in every colour from the mountains and volcanoes. Iceland also taught himself to carve figures out of wood with the sharpest of his stones and added them to his collection.

He had always been an artistic child, drawn to beauty like moth to a flame. During those nights when storms threatened to rip his shelter to pieces, Iceland often lay awake and spun stories in his head and sung loudly, trying to compete with the wind in volume. When the weather calmed and the sun showed itself, Iceland would gather his wooden figures, carry them with him to the moss grown mountainsides of his land and paint them in bright colours with berry juice. The colour was quick to fade, but Iceland liked that. It meant that he could colour the same figure differently every time.

Iceland's treasure grew and grew. Finally, it attracted some unwanted attention.

Iceland had always known that he was not the only intelligent creature on his island. He had seen the people of the sea look up at him with curiosity when he sat at the edge of his favourite cliff and took in the magnificent sight of a wild ocean roaring and crashing in on itself. He had felt the hot breath of dragons on the back of his neck when he ventured too close to the crates of the volcanoes in his endless search for rare and beautiful stones. Iceland had heard the night-trolls felling trees near his shelter on clouded summer nights and seen the unlucky ones that had been caught by the sun and turned into stone. Their frozen faces always had looks of horror and sadness etched onto them, looks that wouldn't fade until the wind had carved and ripped at their bodies for centuries.

He thought he knew all his neighbours on the island. But the creatures that appeared at his shelter one day were creatures of a sort he had never seen before.

_They looked like him._

They were a little taller than Iceland, who was himself just a child at that time, and sported hair in all sorts of red and brownish colours, some even had hair in the golden colour of meadows in summer solstice. They wore fine clothing made of silk, carefully worked skin and cotton, lined with threads of silver and gold. On their fingers and around their necks they bore precious jewellery – metal rings and chains with the most beautiful stones Iceland had ever seen.

Iceland would later learn to recognize them as the_ hidden people_ - or _elves_.

"What do you want from me?" young Iceland had said, bravely facing the intruders while swinging his home-made club around threateningly. "This is my home. You had better leave before I turn hostile."

The elves looked at each other questioningly. They seemed shocked at the sight of the small boy.

"Young sir," one of them spoke. "I assure you that we mean no harm. Our queen had heard of a boy with your description living in the woods, seemingly all alone and guarding vast treasures. We were sent by her majesty to see if those rumours were indeed true."

Iceland pointed his little wooden club at the elven spokesman. "What does she want with me?" he asked, suspicious. "If she wants my treasure she can forget it. It's mine."

The elves smiled at those words.

"She does not want your treasure," the elf assured him. "She wants you. We believe you might be the long lost prince told of in ancient elven legends... Surely, there can be no other explanation for your appearance here. You look just like us and you've been alive much longer than any human or elf would have managed. You simply must be our prince."

Iceland lowered his club slightly.

"What's a human?" he said. "And what's an elf?"

"Come with us," the elf said. "We'll tell you everything you need to know."

* * *

At this point in his story, Iceland was stopped by a loud yawn coming from Denmark. Iceland folded his arms and cocked a brow, irritated.

"You find my story boring?" he asked.

Denmark stifled another yawn.

"No," he said. "Just a bit slow. I mean, hearing about your youth is cute and all, but we're here to discuss the curse, not to reminisce about old times..."

"Den's right," Norway said. "Cut to the chase."

Iceland scoffed. "I'll try, but my story-telling instinct might take over."

* * *

The elves lead Iceland through the barrier that separated their world from the normal one. Weird colours flashed before his eyes, then the fog lifted and Iceland was standing on a green field reaching as far as his eyes could see. In the distance he saw the majestic palace of the elven queen rise high into the sky. The queen herself welcomed him in front of vast masses of her elven subjects.

"Welcome home, young prince," were the first words she spoke to him. That night the elves held a great banquet, celebrating Iceland as the long lost lover of their ancient queen. "I've searched for you a long time," the queen told Iceland. "And finally I have found you."

That night, before tucking him in, the queen sat on the edge of his large, soft bed, stroking his hair and telling him the story of his disappearance from the elven kingdom in a soft, motherly voice.

"You were too beautiful and the gods envied you," she told him. "As a punishment they took you away, but I took precautions and used my magic to grant us both an eternal life so that we might meet again in the far future."

"But why have I not aged then?"

The queen leaned forward and kissed little Iceland on the head.

"I don't know," she said. "But that doesn't matter. What matters is that you are now home."

From that point on, Iceland lived with the elven queen in her palace in the hidden world. He got fine clothes, fit for a noble prince, jewellery and a golden crown that he bore on his neatly kept silver hair. He learned the customs of the elven court; was educated in magic, history, diplomacy and other important subjects; learned to wield a sword, a bow and arrows and to ride a horse. The elven queen personally taught him how to write with tint on a piece of calf skin. All the elves in the kingdom agreed that Iceland was the sweetest prince they had ever been so lucky to call their own.

All that time Iceland bore the name of the long lost prince: _Evril the Blessed_. It were happy times. Iceland sometimes thought they were the happiest times of his life.

Then the humans came and took over his island, and the elves prepared to defend their land in war. A strange thing started to happen to Iceland. The more humans that settled on his island, the bigger he grew. Everyone in the kingdom was too happy about his growth-spurt to make the connection, but Iceland always felt strangely drawn to the humans. One fair summer night, when Iceland had almost grown out of the form of a child, he snuck out of the palace and visited a village of the humans. There he wandered about, peeping through the windows at the sleeping humans and their animals.

"Who are you?" someone had said behind him. Iceland spun around, a hand at his sword. "Are you a noble? Your clothes are almost... elfish..." The stranger, a boy of roughly the same age as Iceland, trailed off at the sight of Iceland's silver hair and blue eyes, and the golden crown on his head. "Are you a prince?"

"I'm Evril the Blessed," Iceland said. "A prince of the elven kingdom. Who are you?"

The boy smiled and bowed.

"Pleasure to meet you, fair prince," he said. "I am Norway, the personification of an entire nation."

Iceland's eyes had grown wide at the introduction.

"You're not human?" he asked.

The boy shook his head.

"No more than you," he answered.

* * *

"I remember that," Norway said with a rare smile on his face. "You were so cute. You were just like I've always imagined a fairy-tale prince."

"Fag," Åland said before Sweden grabbed his ear, making the young nation scream in pain.

"Be nice," Sweden said and let go of Åland's ear. The boy cupped it with his hand, looking up at his father with angry tears forming in his eyes but dared not say anything more.

"Continue," Greenland said to Iceland. "I don't want this to take the whole day. My polar bears are getting hungry." Outside, in Iceland's back yard, four huge polar bears lay curled up against each other, stomachs grumbling. "You better finish that story quick, or they'll go on a rampage and eat everyone in sight," Greenland warned.

Who could argue with an icy glare like hers?

* * *

The two boys, Iceland and Norway, quickly became friends. Iceland found himself sneaking out most nights to meet the strange boy who claimed to be an entire nation. As tensions between the humans and the elves grew, it became more and more difficult for Iceland to meet with his new friend.

Iceland also continued to grow bigger every time a longship brought a new onslaught of settlers to his island. Norway didn't notice it at first, but it wasn't long until he grew suspicious.

"Are you sure that you're an elf?" he asked one day.

Iceland had looked at his friend in surprise.

"What do you mean?" he'd asked.

Norway shrugged. He kicked a stone so that it skipped across the black beach, landing in the ocean.

"I still haven't met the personification of Iceland, even though this country has already been settled and named. That's highly unusual," he said. "Nations usually appear long before their people arrive, especially in isolated places like islands."

"You think I might be like you?" Iceland had asked. "A nation?"

"Could be," Norway said. He looked at Iceland out of the corner of his eye. "How did you come into existence? Were you born by an elven mother?"

Iceland shook his head.

"I didn't even know that elves existed until they found me and claimed I was a long lost prince," he said. "The first thing I remember is lying in the warm crater of a volcano, alone. I don't know if that's when I was born or just where my memories begin..."

Young Norway let out an excited gasp. He'd been so much different back then. Easily excited and childish to a point that even Iceland had to laugh at his behaviour.

"Then you're definitely a nation! How old are you?"

Iceland shrugged.

"I don't know," he said. "I've been around for at least a hundred years."

"That does it," Norway said. "You've got to meet my king. He'll be thrilled to meet the personification of his new colony."

"Does that mean..."

Norway nodded, a wide smile across his face.

"You are definitely the personification of Iceland," he'd said. "You are definitely my little brother!"

* * *

"Aww... How sweet," came from Denmark. "An excited little Norway wanted to show his little brother to his king..." He quickly shut up when Norway shot him a murderous glare.

"What happened then?" Finland asked, eyes full of curiosity. He seemed to have forgotten the grim reason they were all gathered in Iceland's home. He seemed to be enjoying the story.

Iceland straightened up in his chair. He had always prided himself in his story-telling abilities. If this was to be the Nordic's last time together, he at least wanted it to be entertaining.

"Then the war started," he said, adding drama to his voice. He could see the eyes of his fellow Nordics glaze over. They were lost in story-land. Even Fae, Iceland noticed when he shot her a fleeting glance. She had stopped trembling and now watched her brother with an open mouth, completely hypnotized. Iceland allowed himself to smile.

At least his little sister could still enjoy his stories.

* * *

The only war that had ever been fought on Icelandic ground was also a short one. Elves and humans threw themselves into bloody battles, dancing between the barriers of the two worlds. The humans who wielded magic had started the attack by breaking down the barriers that kept humans out of the hidden world of the elves. Norway and Iceland found themselves fighting on opposite sides.

The humans were stronger. In only two months they had managed to bring the battle completely to elven ground. It wasn't long until the elves had to retreat to their palace, humans following swiftly.

Iceland could still hear the clamour of swords that filled the halls of his beloved home. Instead of fighting, he had been charged with safeguarding the queen, who lay weeping in her chambers.

"All is lost!" she repeated over and over again, her beautiful face distorted in grief. "So many lives are lost. We will be driven away again. Why can they never let us be?"

Iceland had tried his best to comfort her, but to no avail.

"My queen," he'd said, drawing her in for a hug. "Don't despair. All is not lost. Even if we lose the palace and the fields, we still have the stones and the hills."

"Stones and hills," the queen had hissed. "Am I to live in stones and hills like a common house-elf?" She started crying. "Evril. My sweet, sweet Evril," she said, burying her face in Iceland's chest, gripping the collar of his silk tunic tightly. "Promise me that you will drive the humans from this land. Promise that no matter what happens, you will ensure the future of our kingdom, our religion and culture. Promise to always side with us who are born of magic over humans who rise from the mud."

Iceland could feel his eyes fill with tears. He loved his queen so much, he would never be able to deny her a thing.

"I promise," he said.

The elven queen looked up at him, sadness so deep in her eyes that Iceland´s heart missed a beat.

"Promise you will be my king," she said.

"You mean..."

Iceland hardly dared to hope.

"Marry me," his queen said.

Iceland cupped her delicate chin and kissed her soft, red lips.

"I will, my queen."

At that very moment, the door to the queen's chamber flew open and human soldiers rushed inside. They spread around the chamber until they had surrounded Iceland and his queen completely. Swords and spears pointed at them, the humans had grim looks on their bloodied faces.

The queen's grip on Iceland hardened.

"Kill them," she whispered. "Save me."

Iceland stood up, placing himself in front of his queen, ready to draw his sword.

"At ease," came an order from outside the chamber. The soldiers sheathed their weapons. They greeted their leader when he walked inside the room. "Hello Iceland," that leader said.

Iceland's face fell.

Norway wasn't just fighting on the other side. He was _leading_ the human army.

Iceland's queen shot Norway a deadly look.

"Kill him," she ordered, loud enough for all to hear. The soldiers got ready to draw their weapons but Norway stopped them. He watched Iceland and his queen carefully. The elven queen sniggered. "He´s just a boy. He´ll go down easily." When Iceland didn't move, she looked at him. "Evril?" she said, sweetly. "Don't be scared. You are a good fighter. You can take him."

Iceland lowered his hand away from his sword.

"I can't fight that boy," he said. "Not even for you, my love." He looked down, into the eyes of his queen. They were wide with shock.

"Evril... What in the world do you mean?" she said. Her voice trembled. "But... You promised..."

"That boy is my brother," Iceland said. "My brother of the same kin. My queen, I'm sorry. I'm not Evril. I'm not an elf. I am a nation." He had grown sure of that long ago, but never had the heart to tell his queen – until now.

The horror in his queen's eyes would haunt Iceland's nightmares forever after.

"No!" she screamed, grabbing onto Iceland with the strength of desperation. "Don't say that. You're Evril! You are him! You must be!"

Iceland loosened her arms from his waist.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I wish it could have been true."

Before the queen could grab him again, Iceland walked away from her, taking position beside his brother. Norway smiled and patted his back, thankfully without saying anything. When the older of the two nations made his way to the elven queen, Iceland looked away. He could not bear to watch.

"Queen of elves," Norway said. Iceland could hear the sound of a sword being drawn. He balled his fists and squeezed his eyes shut. "Your army has been defeated. Your lands and your palace have been overrun by an enemy army." Iceland could hear his queen start to violently sob. Norway paused. "I hereby banish you and your kind from the hidden world and declare your kingdom dissolved. You may take refuge in the hills and stones of this land if you please, or leave it forever, but you are never to set foot in human settlements or to raise a hand against the humans. Do you understand?"

The queen said nothing. Iceland dared to look at her. She was staring his way, wild fury in her gaze.

"I understand that we have been betrayed," she said, hatred in her voice.

Norway took that as enough of an answer.

"Leave," he ordered.

The elven queen got up immediately and ran away from her former chambers without so much as glancing in Iceland's direction.

Iceland sunk to his knees. His heart ached. He would not have been surprised to find it ripped out of his chest, it hurt so much. Tears fell from his eyes, running hot down his cheeks.

He had betrayed her. He betrayed the woman he loved more than anything in the world.

He startled when he felt the warm hand of his brother on his shoulder.

"Stand up," Norway ordered. "Stand up and face your people."

Iceland's shoulders started shaking with grief.

"Leave me be," he said between sobs. "Let me mourn."

Norway squeezed his shoulder lightly.

"No," he said. "This is not the time to grieve. Stand up."

Iceland wiped the tears of his face and did as he was told. Norway led him out of the queen's chambers, out to a balcony overlooking the palace gardens. The sun stung Iceland's eyes and blinded him for a moment. When he could see again, he gaped.

In the garden of the palace, humans were celebrating their victory over the elves. They were stained with blood, some hurt badly, and all around them bodies of the fallen lay scattered, elves and humans alike. Far from the palace Iceland could see the remnants of the elven population flee towards the border between this world and the human world. He tried to find his queen amongst them, but they were too far away.

Beside him, Norway spoke words of magic, then directed his attention towards the celebrating humans.

"People of Iceland," he boomed, his voice supernaturally loud. At once the humans stopped cheering and turned to face Norway and Iceland. "I introduce to you the personification of Iceland itself!" Loud cheering almost drowned out his words. "He has driven the elven queen out of this land and secured the future of his people. Congratulations!" Norway's voice got even louder. "You are now a fully fledged nation!"

The garden exploded with loud cheers and singing. The soldiers who had been in the queen's chambers came out behind Iceland and Norway, their faces beaming with pride. They hugged each other and the two nations.

Iceland´s eyes filled with tears. He didn't know whether they were tears of joy or sadness – or both. His gaze lingered on the elves that disappeared one by one into the human world. At last only one remained. Iceland could not see the elf's face, but he could feel it deep in his heart that it must be his beloved queen.

"I love you," he mouthed towards her. His chest felt as if it would burst. "I love you so much."

She disappeared as well.

* * *

"And the next time I saw her," Iceland finished his story, voice raspy with emotion, "she stabbed me through the shoulder and cursed me with the strongest curse she could muster."

Iceland's dining room was now filled with the muffled sobs of his fellow Nordics. All but Greenland, who had always had a firm grip on her emotions, had tears running down their faces or at least lingering on their eyelashes. Åland and Fae were openly crying.

Iceland felt a sad smile on his lips. He had gone over the memories so many times in his head, sleepless in the solitude of his cave or when drinking alone in his Reykjavík home. This was the first time he told anyone his side of the story. Norway had known some of this already, but Iceland doubted that his brother had known just how much Iceland had loved his queen.

Norway wiped the tears from his eyes, composing himself briefly before speaking.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I had no idea."

"Don't be," Iceland answered. "You were doing what you thought was best for me. If it hadn't been for you, my nation would never have been as peaceful as it turned out to be."

Since it seemed as if it would take his fellow Nordics some time to get over the story, Iceland got up to brew them all some tea. When all had quieted down, Sweden posed the most important question.

"What exactly does the curse entail?"

The other nations all looked at Iceland for the answer.

"Every full moon I turn into a dark, derailed version of myself," Iceland said. "I have no control over my actions, yet I remember every detail of everything I do. That mostly consists of killing innocent bystanders and tearing apart animals that I come across." Iceland looked at the faces of his fellow Nordics one by one. "This shall also be the fate of the one I love the most," he said.

"And who is that?" Denmark asked.

Iceland closed his eyes.

"I've taken care to never love anyone since the day I was cursed. That way, no one will have to suffer my fate."

He heard a chair being pushed abruptly from the table. When he opened his eyes he was surprised to see Greenland standing up, holding her mouth and staring at him.

"I... My polar bears," she said before running out of the room, her voice breaking at the end of the sentence.

Iceland guessed that last bit had finally done her in.

"Damn," Denmark said.

No one else said anything. Iceland let out a deep sigh and leaned back in his chair.

"That leaves us with the question of what to do next," he said, trying to sound as nonchalant as he could. With all the other Nordics breaking apart, at least one of them needed to keep a clear head. "Will we try to end my life, or lock me up for the safety of my people?"

* * *

_**Author's comments:**__ If you liked this chapter... please let me know! Your interest motivates me, and your ideas do too. If you didn't like this chapter but are excited about the idea behind the story, please let me know what I can do better._


	6. Family Council

_**Story:**__ Spellbound_

_**Author:**__ ShrapnelGirl_

_**Exclaimer:**__ All characters belong to Hidekaz Himaruya._

_**Author's comments:**__ Here's the fifth chapter of Spellbound. It's rather short, since I didn't feel very inspired when writing it... You guys make sure to review and stroke my ego a lot to get me inspired for the next chapter ;) It's a very important one!_

_Someone asked for Sweden and Finland to appear more, so I tried to have them talk a lot more in this chapter. I really do listen to you guys! Hehe... Keep requesting._

_Thank you everyone who faved, followed and commented! A special thanks to those who voiced their desires for the future chapters of this story! Enjoy._

* * *

_Chapter 5 – Family Council – Reykjavík, winter of 1859_

A horrified look spread across the faces of his fellow Nordics. Iceland let out a sigh.

"The way I see it, those are the only two options," he continued. "Killing me or locking me up. Curing me is impossible."

"We don't know that," Finland said. All eyes turned to the small boy. "We haven't tried it yet..." His and Sweden's masks were almost cracked now. Their faces showed worry for Iceland.

Iceland smiled wearily.

"You think I haven't tried every remedy of every country in the world already?" Iceland asked. "I spent centuries looking for any spell that might help me lift this curse. I travelled the entire world... There is no cure."

"Did you ask the other nations for help?" Sweden asked. His accent was so thick, Iceland had to take a minute to understand the question.

"No," he said. "The other nations know, thank god, nothing of my curse. If they did..."

"They'd probably vote to have you killed," Norway finished his sentence.

Iceland nodded.

"I'm not really known in the world. What difference would it make to the other nations whether I live or die? I´d just be a bother, a cursed nation. They might fear that my curse would spread..." At the concerned looks all around him, Iceland waived a hand dismissively. "It's not contagious. As long as I don't start loving anyone, that is."

Silence filled Iceland's small dining room.

"So... Death or livelong imprisonment?" Denmark said. "Are those really the only two options?"

"That can't be." The voice was so low that Iceland almost missed it. Surprised, he looked at his little sister, who was practically sitting on Denmark's lap to get as far away from Iceland as possible. Fae's eyes were welling up with tears.

Iceland could feel the familiar pull on his heart. _No,_ he thought. _Don't do this. Don't feel anything. If you do, she'll be hurt._

"I'd personally prefer death," he said grimly, turning away from Fae. The pull on his heart seized. "Lifelong imprisonment doesn't sound very enticing..."

"How would we do it?" Sweden asked, ever the practical.

"You're a nation," Finland chirped in. "We can't just off you like that. What would happen to your people?"

Iceland shrugged.

"There has been talk ever since _Móðuharðindin_, the disaster that killed half my people, to move the entire population to Canada and make a New Iceland over there... This, if it was done, would effectively kill me, as well as changing Canada's personality slightly. I'm not sure how he would like that though."

The nations looked at each other.

"Moving... the entire population?" Åland sounded horrified. "Is that even... I mean, is that possible?"

"There are only about 65,000 Icelanders in the world - if that many," Iceland explained. "Canada's so called _Emigration Agents_ have been making fair promises to my people. Already, over a thousand have left to try their luck in Canada. With governmental support, the rest wouldn't mind leaving as well."

"They'd leave you? Just like that?" Denmark asked.

"Why not?" Iceland replied. "This land has been difficult to live in from the start. My people are cold, famished and tired of natural disasters. The weather has become increasingly stormy and rainy, hardships have become the norm... They fear another eruption like the one at Lakagýgar. Canada wants to take care of my people. I say, let him." When no one said anything, Iceland continued. "Besides, my people don't see moving as a change of nationality. As long as they are all together they'll be happy. The only difference is that they'll be West-Icelanders instead of just Icelanders."

"Your people are weird," Åland said.

"We're just tired," Iceland answered. "All of us."

The Nordics at the dining-room table looked up when Greenland entered the room. She seemed to have pulled herself together. Her expression was as cold and impartial as ever.

"Have we come to a conclusion?" she asked.

"Not yet," Norway said. "Iceland wants us to move his entire population to Canada and kill him that way."

Greenland's mouth twitched slightly.

"That´s nonsense," she said, sitting down between Iceland and Fae. "We haven't even seen just how bad that _curse_ is. I say we wait for the next full moon before we decide anything, maybe even try a little of our own magic. I'm sure Norway and I can cook up something to cure our troublemaker here."

Iceland looked at the ancient arctic nation, astounded. He had never heard her talk so much or so heatedly about anything before. She was defending him? Even though he had treated her as his colony in the past?

"Thank you," he murmured.

Greenland pretended not to have heard him.

"That's it then," Denmark said, slamming his hands on the table. He stood up, a look of relief on his face. "We'll postpone any and all decision-making until we've seen the curse in action. All nations are to stay in Iceland until then. This meeting is now over."

The Nordics all in unison let out a sigh. Iceland fiddled with his bow. His family wanted to keep him alive for as long as they could. But what would they say after they saw his demented alter-ego?

"What's for dinner?" Denmark asked, stretching on his chair.

"Blood-sausage and liver," Iceland replied. "And some of Fae's cured whale."

* * *

When the Nordics had made sure that Iceland wouldn't turn unless at full moon, they decided to let him out of his prison. With that many nations around him, how could he be a danger? The cellar was cleaned and more beds put up there, as well as in Iceland's guest room, living room and own bedroom, to accommodate his many guests.

Fae and Greenland made themselves comfortable in the guest room, refusing to be bothered by the loud snores that came from Iceland's bedroom at night. Denmark had demanded to share the master bedroom with his colony – it was the warmest room in the house. He got the pillow end of the bed while Iceland slept at his feet as was tradition in Iceland. Due to the cold weather people had taken to sharing every bed by the twos. The only nation sleeping alone was Norway who sought the solitude of the living room. Finland, Sweden and Åland made their home in the cellar.

Iceland's home had never been so lively before. In fact, it had never felt like a proper _home_ before. The three weeks until full moon passed by in a flash, with every day being packed full of occurrences, fights and family dinners.

Norway and Greenland passed time by looking up spells in their magic books, comparing methods and different spells. Most of the time they sat at the dining-room table in silence, each of them reading a thick, leather bound book for hours. They only moved when Finland ordered them to take the books away and set the table for dinner, or when Greenland had to go out to feed and walk her polar bears and Norway to ruffle Iceland's hair, much to the latter's annoyance.

Finland and Sweden had taken it upon themselves to do the housework, even though Iceland protested loudly. _He_ was the master of the house, _he_ should be the one catering to his guests' every need. The two mainland-nations only looked at him with guilt in their eyes. Iceland realized that cleaning and cooking was probably those two's way of keeping their minds off thinking about Iceland's curse and the decision that would have to be made in three weeks time. Iceland left them alone, allowing them to take over his home, buzzing about like busy, busy bees.

Fae and Åland, being the smallest of the Nordics, spent their time drawing and playing and telling each other stories from their homelands. Iceland could hear them gossiping in the guest room during the day, or clashing swords in the cellar in the afternoons. Fae made it a point to steer clear of her brother, and Iceland respected that. Young Åland on the other hand seemed to be fascinated with Iceland and often broke off his playing with Fae in order to skip up to Iceland and ask him an uncomfortable question.

"How many have you killed? What's the worst thing you have ever done? Does the curse hurt? Do you drink blood? Did you ever have sex with the elven queen?" The questions were endless. Iceland usually never had to answer them since either Finland or Sweden would march up to their charge and pull him away from Iceland with an apologetic look on their faces.

One question though made even Sweden curious for the answer.

"Why do you never call the elven queen by her name?" Åland had asked, wide eyed with curiosity.

Iceland waited for Sweden to pull the boy away like always, but the tall nation just kept his hand on Ålands shoulder, staring at Iceland in wonder. Iceland sighed. He put down his feather quilt, the poem he had been working on drying on the paper, and rubbed his temples.

"I have forgotten it," he answered. He refused to say anything more on that matter, even though Åland kept repeating the question. Alarm rose in Sweden's eyes when he saw Iceland's irritation, and finally he pulled Åland away from the volcanic nation.

"Don't pester him," Sweden scolded. "Iceland's got a very short fuse."

Those words didn't stop the boy from asking his questions though. Living with Russia had sure made him brave.

"Leave me alone or I'll feed you to the night-trolls," Iceland once said to the boy. That earned him half a day´s worth of peace while the boy dragged Fae around the outskirts of Reykjavík, searching for night-trolls. He got scolded by Finland in the evening though...

When he was not being pestered by Åland, Iceland spent his time as usual: writing poetry and stories; documenting the weather, the harvest and the population of his land; carving statues of wood and painting them, then selling them to the locals for laughingly small prices; knitting woollen sweaters and socks and underwear... He didn't have to do any chores, since Sweden and Finland took care of that, nor did he have to tend to his garden since Greenland's polar bears slept there and Iceland didn't especially fancy being torn apart by them. After lunch, Iceland took a walk around the neighbourhood.

He sometimes met Denmark on his walks. The two exchanged greetings and smiles, then continued on their ways. Iceland almost never saw Denmark in the house during those three weeks. His ruler seemed to prefer spending his time outdoors, following Iceland's people around and pestering his government. Iceland didn't particularly care, Denmark _did_ rule his country after all, but he wondered about the sudden interest the Dane had for his country. Denmark had never bothered much about the state of his colony. Iceland suspected him of sometimes forgetting that the country of Iceland existed at all. But ever since the secret of the curse had gotten out, Denmark had started to pay much more attention to the state of the volcanic country.

_Is he bothered by our independence struggle?_ Iceland thought to himself. _A little late for that, but what do I care. This nation won't exist long enough to gain independence anyway._

The liveliest times were during dinner and breakfast, when all the Nordics gathered around Iceland's dining-table. They passed the food around; sometimes joked, sometimes shared memories of the good old times. Iceland was usually asked to recite his newest poems to the group, which he happily did, much to young Åland's annoyance.

During those dinners, Iceland could almost lose himself in the illusion of family. He was happy to get the chance to experience such a thing so shortly before his impending death.

The next full moon came all too quick.

* * *

_**Author's comments:**__ For those who want to know, there really were plans to move the entire Icelandic population to Canada in the late 19__th__ century. Canada's Emigration Agents made bright promises to people, describing a prosperous land across the sea. People dreamed of living in a more stable land – and really didn't see change of land as being the same as a change of nationality. But then nationalism reached the small island and people started harbouring love for their disastrous land, as well as dreaming of independence..._

_I won't be all too historically-correct with this story, I´ll have to change some things to fit the plot, but all in all I'll try to include more historical titbits like this one._

_As for the name of the elven queen... I'm letting you guys decide. Post your suggestions for a name, and the winner gets a special mention in the chapter that I reveal her name in! Be as creative as you want, the name can be Tolkien-ish or something from your home land, or even an Icelandic one.  
_


	7. The Decision

_**Story:**__ Spellbound_

_**Author:**__ ShrapnelGirl_

_**Exclaimer:**__ All characters belong to Hidekaz Himaruya._

_**Author's comments:**__ Here's the sixth chapter of Spellbound. Damn internet broke down, and in the middle of a snowstorm to boot. I'm updating today because I don't know if I'll be in town this weekend or if I'll have internet at home tomorrow. So, enjoy this early chapter guys!_

_We'll get to meet next chapter. Also: A major time-skip. And _gasp_! There's a twist in the plot! Who would have thought?_

_For those interested, I am also starting another story called 'On the Rise and Developing Rapidly'. That story will focus on the growing friendship between Iceland and Russia – a special treat because this year marks the 70__th__ anniversary of formal political relations between the two nations! It won't affect my update schedule for this story though, since I'm only writing the other one when I feel exceptionally inspired._

_*Ehemm* Shameless self advertising over. *Ehemm*_

_Now, please enjoy this chapter._

* * *

_Chapter 6 – The Decision – Reykjavík, winter of 1859_

The Nordics gathered in Iceland's cellar late one evening. In just an hour, full moon would descend and the nations wanted to make sure Iceland was securely fastened before then. Everyone but Iceland was heavily armed; the agitated candlelight reflected in axes and swords, mimicking the mental state of everyone present.

Iceland lay on the bed with closed eyes, trying to block out the jingling of the chains Norway and Denmark were fastening him with. Fae gave instructions in a low voice, almost a whisper. She had the most experience when it came to securing Iceland for a moon-filled night.

"When we are ready, we'll have to draw the curtains," Fae said. "It lets the moonlight in."

"If we kept him away from the moonlight, would he still turn?" Finland asked.

"Yes," Norway said. "But it would take longer and bring much more pain… I think. At least, that's how it is for werewolves."

"I also get a lot more tired afterwards," Iceland said. "It's not nice. It's better to just embrace the moonlight."

Someone hummed. A long while after, everyone stayed silent.

The Nordics had gathered pillows and chairs around Iceland's bed, and when moonrise drew near, they made themselves comfortable. Someone touched Iceland's forehead, brushed his hair out of his face. Iceland opened his eyes.

It was Norway.

"Lillebror…" he whispered, and although his face was as blank as ever, Iceland could see a flicker of sadness in his eyes. Norway's touch lingered for only a second before he withdrew his hand.

Iceland felt something heavy in the pit of his stomach. Was it fear? Iceland had turned many times before - so many times before. He had even turned in front of Fae and Den, and most of his hapless victims had recognized him as the silver-haired poet from Reykjavík before he tore them apart. But turning in front of all the Nordics, in front of his brother and oldest friend Norway?

Iceland could feel his hands start shaking. Stubbornly, he forced himself to calm down.

_I won't end my life as a coward,_ he swore in his mind. _I won't shake. I won't let them see me being nervous. I want them to remember me as the ice-cube they've always thought I was, cold and unfeeling, and unafraid…_

That way, they might not be as sad when they would be forced to end his life.

"It is time," Norway said.

Iceland drew a deep breath. As he breathed out, he got rid of the emotions that waged battle within him: breathed them out one by one until he felt as calm and empty as he always acted. He didn't care for a single thing in the world. Suddenly, the sadness in his brother's eyes didn't affect Iceland anymore.

"I am ready," he said.

On Norway's cue, Sweden drew the curtains.

* * *

A ray of silvery moonlight met with silver hair, caressed its way down Iceland's face, meeting his chest. Blue eyes turned red – a mischievous grin spread over a previously blank face. Iceland's other self let out a deep, rough laughter.

The Nordics readied their weapons.

"Good evening," Dark-Iceland said, casting a sideways glance to Norway before eyeing the other Nordics. He mustered them each and every one at a leisured speed, his grin widening with every new person that met his glance with a cold stare. Only Fae turned her gaze away. "We have quite the gathering here tonight. What's the occasion?"

Denmark hardened his grip on his axe, fury ablaze in his eyes. Dark-Iceland let another laugh escape him.

"You have your own mind, beast?" Norway asked. He had a book of spells open in his lap and a delicate dagger in his right hand, ready to strike.

"I do," answered the monster. "I am the very darkness of Iceland´s soul, the part of him that wishes only death and destruction… I am inseparable from him."

"We'll see about that." Norway's facial features darkened. Both his and Dark-Iceland's gazes were drawn to his spell book.

"Norwegian magic," Dark-Iceland said, clearly amused.

"And Greenlandic," Greenland said, gesturing towards a bag beside her chair.

"Ah," Dark-Iceland said. "How scary." He didn't sound the least bit afraid. "And you wish to try your spells on me? You are aware that whatever you do would only affect your dear, beloved Iceland, right?"

"You underestimate us, monster," Norway spat.

Dark-Iceland pouted.

"How rude…" he whined. "You seem to enjoy calling me _beast_ and _monster_. That hurts you know… It's not like I don't have a name."

"You do?" an amazed Åland asked. "What is it?" He sat right at the edge of his seat, his Morningstar resting casually and almost forgotten on the floor beside him. The boy's eyes were transfixed on his cursed uncle and unlike the other Nordics, he seemed to feel more interest in the monster before him than fear or hatred.

Sweden and Finland both looked at their charge with a mixture of fear and anger.

Dark-Iceland smirked, red eyes turning to Åland.

"I do. I picked it myself," he said. "It's: Laki."

"Loki? Like the god? Th-" Åland managed to ask before Finland put his hand on the boy´s mouth, shutting him up.

"No. Laki, like Lakagýgar," Laki corrected, a little too casually for the Nordics' taste. "You know: The volcanic fissure that erupted some decades ago, wiping out _half_ of Iceland's population and life-force?" He said that like it was an amusing joke he had been dying to tell someone.

Åland gasped. "That's evil!" he managed to shout before Sweden, too, tried to cover his mouth to shut him up. Held firmly in the grasps of two nations, young Åland was forced to stay silent for the rest of the interrogation, much to his displeasure.

"We don't care for your sick humour, monster," Denmark growled. "We just want to know how to get rid of you."

Laki cocked an eyebrow.

"Get rid of me?" he asked. "Now why would you want that? I'm much more fun than that wimp Iceland…"

"Don't you dare speak of him that way!" Denmark warned, half standing up from his seat and pointing his axe towards Laki.

"Don't," Norway said. Denmark looked at his former companion.

"That… _thing_, is just so damn cocky! How can I not get annoyed?"

"He's riling you up on purpose," Norway said.

Laki laughed heartily, proving Norway's point. Denmark growled and sat down again, turning his face away from the monster.

"Talking to that thing doesn't seem to be working," he said. "I say the rest of us clear out and let our two magicians do their thing, as we planned."

Finland and Sweden immediately agreed. Åland was growing restless between them, and the two nations did not want the boy to draw any more of the monster's attention that he already had.

Fae also stood up.

"Going so soon?" Laki asked, alarming sweetness in his voice. "Little sister, won't you stay? See how they treat your brother? How they make him squirm?" Fae firmly ignored the monster. "He can feel all the pain that I feel," Laki said, chuckling. "If they try to torture me for information, Iceland will feel it just as much as I. We are one and the same, after all."

"Let's go," Fae said. She ushered the other Nordics out, refusing to look at Laki.

"Magic hurts!" Laki screamed after her. "You know they do! Are you really letting them do this to him?"

He was answered only by the door slamming shut.

"I'll leave you two to it," Denmark said, glaring at the chained monster. "Be sure to get some answers out of our Darklander here. And if you can, fix Iceland."

He left the room as well.

Laki's derailed laughter rang throughout the house when Norway and Greenland etched closer to him with fierce determination on their faces. Words of ancient magic echoed in the room, bright light lit the walls and the body on the bed squirmed in its chains. Laughter turned to silence - silence to screams.

* * *

It was a long night.

Sweden and Finland huddled together in the living room, Åland between them, and took turns singing lullabies to block out the screams.

Denmark lay awake in his bed, staring at the ceiling with a blank face. On the bedside table, several bottles of alcohol gradually emptied.

In her and Greenland's room, Fae buried her face into her pillow, choking out her own sobs.

All waited for morning with a mixture of dread and hope.

* * *

When the Nordics, minus Iceland, gathered in the dining-room for breakfast, everyone had dark rings under their eyes. Questioning stares were directed at Norway and Greenland. They both shook their heads in unison.

"We tried everything," Norway said.

Gloom filled the room.

"How's Icy doing?" Finland asked.

"Resting," Greenland answered.

The Nordics ate in silence.

* * *

Iceland woke up when he felt warmth on his face. Opening his eyes, he was blinded by the bright light shining into them. He moaned and turned to the side, not daring to brave the sunlight until he was sure his eyes had gotten used to it.

_- screams still echoed in the back of his mind -_

They had left the curtains on the window undrawn, allowing sunlight to fill the small cellar. It must have been around noon. It would get dark again in an hour or so. Iceland shivered. It was cold.

_- it hadn´t worked -_

Someone had undone his chains, he saw. They now lay useless next to his bed, their pink imprints still aching on Iceland's limbs, trails of blood dried on his skin.

_- all was lost -_

He didn't bother getting up.

_Svo þetta voru endalokin..._

Iceland eyed the blanket that had fallen to the floor while he slept. Should he bother getting it? It was pretty cold… Norway must have put it on him before he left the cellar in the morning. Iceland couldn't imagine Greenland doing such a thing…

But then again, he hadn't believed the two of them to be capable of doing what they had done to him last night. The spells were meant for the monster, Iceland knew that. They were meant to help him. But no matter how much the monster screamed and begged, no matter how it writhed and fought about in pain - the cold stares from the two Arctic nations never wavered, their hands never faltered in their ceaseless casting of spells…

Iceland startled when he heard the doors to the cellar open.

"You awake?" Sweden asked.

Iceland contemplated just closing his eyes and pretending to be asleep. He would gain a few more minutes that way, but what use was that to him now? The other Nordics had probably already made their decision. Stalling would only prolong Iceland's suffering.

"I am," he answered, turning his head to face the Swede.

"I brought you something," Sweden said. He walked towards the bed, a plate of steaming porridge in his hands. "You better eat before you come up," he said.

Iceland nodded and took the plate.

"Thank you," he said, real gratitude in his voice.

Sweden grunted something in response before leaving the cellar.

They probably wanted to have him ready to hear their decision as soon as he came up. Facing Iceland for longer than needed must be too unbearable for them. Treating him kindly, bearing masks of normality, knowing that they held his fate in their hands... No. It was better then to just get it over with.

Iceland ate his porridge automatically. His mind was blank.

Whatever he would hear when he faced the other Nordics, Iceland had already accepted it…

* * *

… only, he hadn't. Because what he heard from the Nordics was something that had never even crossed his mind.

"The decision has been made," Denmark announced.

Just as during their last family-meeting, the Nordics were gathered around Iceland's dining-room table, and in the same seats no less. Iceland stared at the table in front of him, waiting for the words that would either imprison him or end his life.

"Since chains are able to hold you," Denmark continued, "and since you only ever turn at full moon, our decision is…" Here Denmark smiled at Iceland. "To do nothing at all."

Iceland stared at his ruler in disbelief.

"Do nothing at all?" he asked. "But, the safety of my people…"

"You will live your life like normal between full moons," Finland said. "But during full moons you will be chained up and guarded by one of us. No one has to know your secret. We'll keep it to ourselves."

"That way, no one will try to kill you," Norway said. "And you won't be able to kill anyone else."

The other Nordics nodded in unison, their facial expressions now lighter than they had been during the past three weeks.

Iceland stared at the wall in front of him, trying to make sense of what he was hearing.

"I get to live a normal life?" he asked. "But… I had been sure…"

"Norway and Greenland will continue looking for spells to cure you," Sweden said. "And the rest of us will look for information as well."

"My _nisse_ is getting ready to travel between magical beings, asking them for help," Norway said.

"But…" Iceland began, but was cut off by Finland.

"My Sami people know some pretty powerful spells," he said. "I'll ask them for advice once I get back home."

"And I will ask Russia for some spells of his. He's got hundreds of indigenous peoples and many powerful magical creatures of his own," Åland chirped in. "And maybe he can ask for some spells from China… But of course I won't tell either of them what they really are for."

Finland and Sweden looked at each other with stern faces, but said nothing. It seemed that the two of them had already decided to let Åland help, despite their fears for his well-being. The boy beamed with pride. This was probably the first time in his life that his help was direly needed.

"And I can try to talk to England, Ireland, Scotland and the gang…" Denmark offered. "Even though they probably won't help without knowing the reason."

Iceland could feel his eyes watering up. He had always been opposed to showing weakness, to ask for help. But he still couldn't help feeling touched that everyone was so eager to help him, to feel gratitude that they were ready to take on such burdens for his sake.

He was so tired, so tired of dealing with everything on his own.

"That's so much trouble for you guys," he protested weakly. "Wouldn't it be better to just…"

"Our decision is final," Denmark said. To further emphasize his words, Denmark banged his axe on the floor. He seemed to like doing that at every occasion, Iceland noticed.

Iceland stood up from his chair.

"I… I…" He pulled at the bow around his neck, a pink flush spreading over his cheeks. "Ta-takk…" he stammered.

The Nordics smiled. Even the corners of Greenland's mouth turned slightly upwards, and Norway was uncharacteristically beaming with joy.

"Love you too, Icy-boy," Denmark said and winked.

* * *

To celebrate their decision, the Nordics decided to have a feast. Sweden and Finland filled the dinner table with stews, soups, meat and baked potatoes – they must have been cooking ever since the Nordics had reached their decision. The eight nations sat at the table for hours, eating and talking and laughing – yes, laughing. Even Greenland. Even Norway. And Iceland…

He laughed the hardest of them all - laughed at every joke, funny or not.

During the middle of the feast however, Iceland noticed one nation that didn't look happy at all. Fae sat in her seat, still as a mouse, looking glum. Iceland wondered why no one else had noticed her odd mood… But then again, the other Nordics usually didn't notice her at all. She was too small and quiet and fiercely independent – even Iceland often overlooked her in a crowded room.

Was she unhappy about the decision?

He didn't dare approach her to ask. Fae was scared of him, and Iceland had promised himself to give her space, lest he lose her forever.

Perhaps it would be better if she just hated him and left him alone. As soon as the thought was born in Iceland's mind, the laughter stifled in his throat. The other Nordics… His family… They were ready to go to such lengths to help him. What if he got so grateful that he started loving them, thus bringing them under his curse? A primitive fear grew deep in Iceland's heart. He went silent, not even smiling at the other Nordic' stories and jokes. He would need to be extra careful to distance himself from them. He would need to be extra careful not to feel anything for them. He'd need…

Independence.

The answer came to him like a revelation.

If Iceland gained independence, he would no longer be as connected to his family as before. He would be of no more use to Denmark, thus effectively stopping the Dane's visits to Iceland, and he would no longer be in the same household as Fae and Greenland, giving him the opportunity to isolate himself from them. Sweden, Åland and Finland already had enough on their plate, and Norway…

Iceland clenched his jaw. He'd need to live with the guilt of it, he had no other choice: Iceland would need to hurt his brother deep to create the necessary rift between them…

There was only one way for him to hurt the Norwegian enough to stifle his love for his younger brother, and that was to denounce any relations between them. Iceland would need to tell Norway that he didn't see them as brothers anymore, that the blood-bonds they had always believed in were only an illusion…

He'd need to break away from his family, the only family he had ever had and that was prepared to go to such lengths to help him, in order to keep them safe.

_I'll start with independence,_ Iceland thought. _Then, I'll take the next step towards isolation._

* * *

Later that night, when everyone was getting ready to go to bed, Iceland was startled by a delicate hand that gripped the sleeve of his shirt tightly. He looked around to see Fae, face turned away from him.

"We need to talk," she murmured. "Alone."

Iceland nodded.

"Let's go outside," he said. It was the only place available that wasn't full of drunk and sleepy Nordics.

It was dark and cold outside, with strong wind blowing dunes of snow around. Iceland and Fae had to go around the front of the house to find an alley where the wind was not strong enough to blow them away. The leaned against the wall of the small stone house, staying close enough to hear each other - but not too close. There still was an atmosphere of fear and awkwardness between them.

"I want to help you!" Fae screamed just as the wind picked up. "But I don't have any friends to ask for help, and my magic is not strong enough to help either."

"You have already done enough," Iceland screamed back, but his words were blown away by an exceptionally strong gust of wind.

Fae seemed to have understood his protest anyway.

"You are my brother," she screamed. "And I love you."

Iceland froze at her words.

_This is bad,_ he thought. _Very bad._ _I was hoping she was frightened enough to leave me._

"I thought you hated me," Iceland screamed.

Fae ignored his words.

"I want to stay with you," she yelled. "And take care of you. Even when you turn."

Iceland shook his head.

"You can't," he yelled. "It's not safe."

"I don't want to lose you," she replied.

"You'd be miserable," Iceland screamed. He choked slightly when the wind blew snow into his mouth.

Fae leaned in closer, until her face was close enough to Iceland's for her to speak to him almost normally.

"I was afraid of you because I didn't understand. But now I know the extent of your curse. I want to stay with you. I don't want you to have to deal with this on your own. It's not right!"

"If I start loving you, you will be cursed as well," Iceland reminded her.

At that moment, Fae's blue eyes bore more determination in them than Iceland had ever seen from his stubborn sister. Her silvery hair danced in front of her face and for a second Iceland almost felt as if he was staring into his own face. The siblings had always been alike: stubborn, independent, quiet… Denmark had sometimes joked about not being able to tell the two apart.

Regardless: Iceland had always thought his sister was too naive and too delicate to understand his pain. She was older than him, but smaller, friendlier… Despite her age, he always called her _little sister_, and Fae always smiled at that – amused, as if it were a private joke between them. She had never once tried to remind Iceland that agewise, she had every right to demand his respect.

Iceland now saw that everything he had once thought to be weakness in Fae's character – her love, her friendliness, her endless patience – was in fact strength.

It was hopeless to argue with her.

Iceland's eyes grew hard.

"I will ignore you the best I can," he warned. "And be as cold towards you as if you were a stranger – no, an enemy. And don't you ever forget that I don't love you. I can't."

Fae nodded. She had a heart-wrenching smile on her face, frozen tears in the corners of her eyes.

"I don't care," she said. "I'll love you enough for both of us."

"Very well," Iceland said, face blank. "You'll get the guestroom."

Before Iceland had any time to react, Fae embraced him in a tight hug. She let go of him almost instantly, flashed him a half-hearted smile and then ran ahead to the house.

As Iceland watched her go, he couldn't help but to feel he had somehow doomed her.

_If only I was strong enough to deny her,_ Iceland thought. His face was getting numb from the cold. Iceland turned to face the wind: He grimaced as it lashed at his cheeks, now burning from the biting frost. Iceland closed his eyes. _Let the cold reach my heart and keep her safe,_ he begged in his mind. _Let the wind blow away my fatigue, my hopelessness. Let me someday gain the strength to leave everyone behind…_

He opened his eyes, turned his gaze towards the heavens, as if there was someone up there to hear his wish.

_Let me grow strong enough to never love._

* * *

Less than a hundred years later, Iceland gained his independence - but it didn't happen the way he had wanted, nor would it have the consequences he had anticipated…

* * *

_**Author's comments:**__ Thank you everyone who faved, followed and commented! A special thanks to those who voiced their desires for the future chapters of this story!_

_A few of you have already sent in your suggestions for the name of the elven queen. If anyone still wants to send their suggestions, or if those that already have sent theirs want to send in more names, this is your last chance. Her name will be revealed in the next chapter!_

_Just so you guys know, the lucky winner will not just be mentioned in the story, but get to take part in it… ;) I'm not saying anything else on that matter until next week!_


	8. Land of Ice and Fire

_**Story:**__ Spellbound_

_**Author:**__ ShrapnelGirl_

_**Exclaimer:**__ All characters belong to Hidekaz Himaruya_

_**Author's comments:**__ Here's the seventh chapter of Spellbound. Just to clear things up, I do have some information as to how the Republican Celebration actually went, but I couldn't find the video of it, so some details of it stem solely from my imagination. As promised, I also have the chosen name for the elven queen somewhere in this chapter, but you guys must read on and find out where. The name of the person who suggested the winning-name is in the _author's comments_ below the story._

_For those of you wondering: No, Mr. Puffin won't be staying in his animal form for long. You'll get to see human!Puffin in the next chapter ;)_

_Since I'm super busy with school, I'll only be answering PM's and reviews from now on._

_Thank you everyone who faved, followed and commented! Enjoy the story!_

* * *

_Chapter 7 – Land of Ice and Fire – Reykjavík, summer and winter of 1944_

_The day has finally come,_ Iceland thought as he watched the crowd that gathered in Þingvellir on this wet day. _The day I regain my independence. The day of celebration._

It was a truly happy occasion. At 13:30 today, the 17th of June 1944, Iceland would be declared an independent republic as per national referendum. 98% of the population had voted, with 99,5% being in favour of forming a republic. It was the unified will of his people, and his own will…

Why then did Iceland feel so sad?

He had dreamt of this. At first only because he wanted to protect his family from himself, but somewhere along the way Iceland had gotten caught up in all the pride that his people connected with this cause. No matter how much he tried to keep an independent view to that of his people, Iceland was still the embodiment of his people's national will and as their pride grew, so did his.

And he was proud. Proud of his people for coming this far, for sticking to it and reigning victorious. They had pushed and pushed and gained so much - little by little they had increased their freedom and independence until they successfully severed all ties with Denmark's monarch…

And at the same time severed all ties with Denmark himself.

The cheerful Dane was Iceland's ruler and guardian no more. And Denmark had just gotten into Icelandic culture as well: just started to enjoy the cuisine and language, just started to increase his visits to the small island nation – although Iceland suspected the Dane of visiting him only out of worry for the Icelander's well-being and not because he thought it was fun.

Denmark had been stubborn when it came to increasing Iceland's independence: He'd said Iceland was too small to take care of himself, too young and inexperienced. But he had given in eventually. Because Iceland's people never backed down. Iceland himself had done nothing to gain his independence. He had relied completely on his people, watched them fight his fights while he himself sat comfortably in his house, knitting or writing poetry, while being served and taken care of by his sister.

Iceland could finally pinpoint the source of his sadness. It was a relief - his feelings had been a mess all day, with his mood swinging from bad to good to somewhere painfully in-between. He was sad because of Denmark…

Fae had woken Iceland up that morning with a joyful smile and a bundle of letters from nations all around the world congratulating him on his independence. Most of the messages were short and abrupt, one or two sentences at most - written by nations that were either busy waging a war, or who simply didn't bother writing a more thorough message to such a small nation as Iceland. Some of the messages had been longer though: messages from Norway, Sweden, Finland, Åland and Greenland, and surprisingly Canada. That had come as a surprise to Iceland, he hadn't known that the Canadian was so fond of him. America and Fae, of course, congratulated Iceland in person.

Iceland had drunken his coffee slowly that morning, shuffling through the messages absentmindedly until he noticed the glaring absence of word form one important nation: Denmark.

That discovery had formed a knot of dread deep inside Iceland's stomach. His former ruler wasn't angry, was he? After all, Iceland had used the chance when Denmark was occupied to sever their ties – it was a low blow, but Iceland's government had felt at the time that it was their only chance. Was Denmark angry with Iceland for using his elder's weakness for his own gain?

There was no point in thinking about it. Iceland had successfully managed to push that fear away, to the point he had almost forgotten it, but he had spent the rest of the day in an emotional roller-coaster that only just now ended. Iceland now knew what he felt. He was happy because his people were happy, afraid because he feared Denmark's anger, angry because he felt useless and sad because he was worried about his friends and family that were stuck in a war that some had already described as the most brutal one in history…

"It's almost time," said a voice with a distinct American accent. "Are you sure you don't want to go outside and celebrate with your people?"

Iceland looked away from the window he had been staring out of and over to the uniformed American in the passenger seat. England had done the well known _occupy-and-run_ and named America as Iceland´s babysitter for the rest of the second world war. Iceland didn't particularly mind. In fact, he liked the American. He'd already learned so much from the energetic blond... America was particularly interested in teaching Iceland how to be an independent republic – a lesson that Iceland accepted with gratitude.

Iceland sat in the backseat of an American military truck, his sister Fae at his side with a worried look on her face. She had been like that the whole day, somehow feeling Iceland's anxiety even through his fake smiles. Even now she had a firm grip on her skirt, her knuckles white with strain, watching Iceland intently.

He smiled briefly to calm her down before answering.

"Its alright, America," he said. "I'm quite comfortable here."

America shook his head.

"But it's your Republican Celebration!" America exclaimed. "Don't you want to be a part of it?"

Iceland shook his head.

"I did nothing to earn this. My people did it all – this is their celebration."

America seemed a bit confused by the answer, but thankfully he left it at that. The three nations and their driver, a stern-faced soldier under oath of secrecy, turned their attentions to the celebration that was now starting.

The celebration was set by the Prime Minister and followed by a long, religious ceremony. Iceland felt his attention waver throughout, but snapped back when Fae shot him warning glances. Iceland sighed inwardly, but did his best to look like he was listening to the religious preaching that took place on the celebration podium. His little sister had always been a bit more religious and rule-abiding than him.

Iceland awoke completely though when the singing ended and the priest had left the stage. It was time to raise the flag of the republic for the first time. Music sounded – it was the brand new national anthem - and Iceland raised himself in his seat. Out of the corners of his eyes he could see America and Fae flash him bright smiles, but Iceland ignored them. His attention was focused solely on the blue, red and white flag that was being fastened to a flagpole behind the podium.

Iceland's heart hitched involuntarily as his flag - his very own _flag_! - rose slowly towards the sky, wet and heavy with drizzle but nonetheless waving in the light breeze, almost defiantly in tune with the festive music. It was the first time Iceland saw an official flag hoisted before him that did not belong to any of his former rulers or fellow nations. For some reason, that very fact made it clearer to Iceland now than it had ever been before just _what_ independence meant.

He might still get bossed around by bigger, stronger nations. He might still get the short end of every deal; still have to defend his people left and right from the advances of others. But whatever Iceland would do from now on, he did in his _own name_ and his own name only, backed by the will of his _own people_ an no one else's. He was no one's lackey now, no one's colony to do with as they pleased. He was a nation, tall and proud – and from now on he would attend the world meetings of national personifications as an equal to the others.

The very thought sent butterflies fluttering abound in Iceland's stomach. He wasn't sure if he was excited or anxious. To his luck, all world meetings had been suspended until the end of the war, so he would have time to sort out his feelings. Especially the thought of meeting Denmark for the first time as _an equal_ awoke in Iceland a strange feeling that he could not discern.

"Beautiful," America dared to say when the flag had been raised. Iceland and Fae silently agreed.

The celebration continued. Under the ringing of church bells, the members of parliament rose from their seats and declared in unison that henceforth, Iceland would be a republic. They then voted on the first president of the new republic – logically, the King's placeholder and regent of Iceland, Sveinn Björnsson, was chosen. He would be the only president _not_ to be elected directly by the people of Iceland; Iceland needed a president _now_, there was no time for an election.

Fae and America both congratulated Iceland, now a certified republic.

It was all very predictable and by the book. Until the new president, in the middle of his speech, pulled out a message from Christian X, king of Denmark.

"Our government received, just moments ago, this message from Christian X, King of Denmark, where he wishes all the best to the future of the Icelandic nation and where he expresses his wish, that the bonds between the Nordic Countries will only strengthen in the future. I suggest, that those present here shout a triple hurray for the King of Danes Christian X, his wife and his descendants. May they live a long time!"

The crowd joined their president in shouting hurray – they even overdid it and shouted four times instead of three. Everyone seemed to be relieved at the message; Iceland hadn't been the only one fearing reactions of hurt and anger from Denmark. As the cheers died out, Iceland visibly relaxed in his seat; it felt as if a heavy load had just been lifted from his body. If Denmark's king was gracious enough to wish all his best to his former colony, despite the betrayal at the worst of times, Iceland was sure that Denmark would find it in him to forgive the misdeed.

Surely, a message from Denmark was waiting for him at home, congratulating him like all the others.

President Sveinn finished his speech. The Republican Celebration came to an end and the crowd hurried to shelter from the now heavy rain. Iceland closed the window of the car and told the others that they could leave.

"Isn't there a party or something after this? Shouldn't you be there?" America asked, worried.

"There is," Iceland said. "But I'm going home."

No one argued with him. But Iceland could see a flicker of worry in Fae´s eyes. He reminded himself to be extra nice to her that evening to make up for all the trouble he had caused her today.

When the siblings had said goodbye to America and returned to Iceland's house, Fae bee-lined to the kitchen to brew them both some hot tea for calming down after the day. Iceland retreated to his study. As he had thought, there was a letter from Denmark on his desk.

But it wasn´t a letter of congratulations – and it was just as short as the messages from those nations not as close with Iceland as the Nordics were.

Iceland's hand shivered when he picked up the card with Denmarks slightly uneven handwriting.

_Norway found a lead. Had to stop research when occupied. Will continue searching for cure to your curse after war is over. Take care little one. – Den._

Iceland's breath hitched in his throat. That message… It sounded so much like Den. Even when he himself was being occupied in a nasty war he was still thinking of Iceland – although he hadn't so much as mentioned Iceland's independence. Was Denmark hurt because of it? Or was he short on time and figured the message from his king would be enough of a congratulations to Iceland?

Iceland´s sentimental side awakened. Hesitating, he brought the paper up to his lips, kissed it lightly and muttered:

"Be safe, idiot."

That feeling lasted only shortly though. Immediately after the act, Iceland felt as empty and uneasy as ever.

_I must get a grip on myself,_ he thought while staring blankly out of the window. Denmark's message lay crumbled on his thigh, crushed under his now sweating palm. _I'm getting sentimental. That won't do. I might start loving someone a little too much, and that would be the end of them._

* * *

The days after he became a republic were surprisingly calm ones. Iceland's life didn't change much. His government did all the hard work, he himself just lulled about like always, knitting long underwear, watching the weather change and writing poetry. Fae kept on babying him like a mother-sister hybrid, and America kept stopping by to check up on him, to talk or to drag Iceland around to show him how awesome America's army-base in Keflavík was. Iceland's people were euphoric: They waved home-made flags of the new republic around, sung the new national anthem until they knew it by heart and celebrated hand-in-hand with the American and British soldiers that occupied their land.

Iceland himself had regained his usual sullen mood.

He was still cursed. He still couldn't love anyone more than as a friend or a close acquaintance. His family was still waging a brutal world war that, if a certain loud American was right, just kept getting worse.

Every day was the same: boring, lonely and lived in self-enforced isolation from the outside world.

Until one day Iceland found a wounded baby puffin outside his house and decided to keep it until it got fat enough to become a dinner for two.

It wasn't the first puffin Iceland found half-dead outside his house. The stupid things routinely got confused by the city lights when trying to fly out to the ocean to fish for the first time, and those unlucky idiots usually became the much rejoiced dinner of starving Icelanders.

Iceland scooped up the injured animal and brought it into his home. He made it a place to rest on his desk in the study, and even though Fae offered to take care of it, Iceland insisted on nursing the puffin back to health himself. It would hopefully ease his boredom a little. And despite Iceland's cold treatment of humans, he was usually very gentle with animals.

* * *

Summer came to an end, autumn came and went – it was now winter with all the ill tempered weather that belonged in that season. The puffin was ready.

But despite Fae's hungry glances toward the thing, Iceland's puffin never became dinner. It got mighty fat for sure, fat enough for two people to enjoy its tender flesh along with some steamed potatoes and rhubarb-marmalade, but when Iceland had tied its legs and wings and raised his knife to cut the puffin's head off – a quick and painless death – the bird looked at him with such mockery in his black button eyes that Iceland started laughing.

Thank god that Fae wasn't home that day! Iceland laughed so hard that he dropped his knife onto his foot, and as he jumped around his house cursing like a thousand year old sailor - injured foot raised in the air - the puffin somehow managed to edge itself off the chopping board and onto the floor, where it made an honest attempt to roll itself out the front door. Iceland caught it quickly. He had the bird and his knife back in position, foot now throbbing painfully, when something entirely amazing happened.

The bird opened its beak and _spoke_.

"All right! All right!" it yelled desperately. "I give up! I´m a spy for the elven queen… But it wasn't my fault, I had no choice! She was going to wipe out my family, and she said it was an easy job and that I would get plenty to eat and lots of rest and a warm place to stay... I only sent her two messages about you..." The bird fought about in its bonds. "Or three or four! But never more than that, I swear! Please believe me - please don't chop my head off! I WANT TO LIVE!" the scared puffin screamed at the top of its tiny lungs.

Dumbfounded, Iceland just stood there blinking, not daring to believe his own eyes and ears. A talking puffin? In all of Iceland's long life, he had never even so much as imagined such an occurrence taking place, let alone in his kitchen. And now the bird was pleading for its life –claiming to be a spy for the elven queen, the woman that had ruined Iceland's life?

Iceland held the abnormal puffin down firmly on the chopping board. He raised his knife and said in a low, dangerous voice:

"Why is the elven queen sending spies into my home?"

The puffin shook with fear.

"I-I don't know," it stammered. "She..."

Iceland aimed his knife threateningly and hardened his grip on his prey. The puffin closed its eyes. If it had been human, it would have pissed itself by now.

"She's still in love with you!" it screamed. "She's been thinking about you all those years, and now that you have gained independence again she wanted to see if you are ready to renew your bonds with the hidden people."

Iceland lowered the knife without even realizing it.

"She's still in love with me?" he said, stunned.

The puffin shook its little head like its life depended on it.

"I-its true, sir!" it said, overly courteous. "She's been patiently waiting for the day that you would realize what you have to do to regain her favour. I was sent here as an innocent little baby to collect information about you and see if you were ready..."

"Ready for what?" Iceland interrupted sharply. "Get to the point." He was in no mood for long stories now. He was confused and hungry – and his would-be dinner was spouting nonsensical things… Iceland had promised to get dinner ready tonight, Fae would be absolutely furious if she came back and Iceland was _talking_ to their dinner instead of _cooking_ it!

"Ready for what?" the puffin screeched. "To do what the elven queen has been expecting you to do all this time, of course!"

"And that is?" Iceland asked, impatient. To get the bird more focused, he put the blade of his knife right in front of its feathered throat. The puffin froze momentarily, primitive fear evident in its eyes, before continuing in a low but urgent voice.

"She wants you to keep your promise to her," the puffin said. "She wants you to reignite the old religion and to join forces with the hidden people in an epic battle to drive the human pest off of this island… And when all that is done, she'll lift the curse!" When Iceland didn't react, the bird started pleading. "Please, sir. I'm telling the truth. Please don't kill me. I'm innocent. I had no choice in coming here… I'm…"

"Silence," Iceland ordered. He was still trying to process what he had heard, and having the animal´s constant cries in his ears did not help his concentration. The puffin shut up instantly.

Iceland removed the knife from its neck, putting it away lest he accidentally kill the bird. The puffin looked relieved, but Iceland hardly noticed. His mind raced.

What he had just heard was unbelievable. The elven queen still loved him? And she expected him to forgive and forget, just like that, and to keep an old, long-forgotten promise, but hadn't said a word about it for 700 years? And now suddenly she decided to tell him about how he could have gotten rid of his curse _ages_ ago, if he had just complied to her demands? Via a damned _puffin-spy_?

Iceland had to sit down. He left the spy unattended on the chopping-board and took a seat at the kitchen table, burying his head in his shaking hands. All this was absurd. Iceland must be sleeping, or he had been given some hallucination drug. A talking puffin? A woman who Iceland had thought hated him now suddenly loved him? And wanted him to help her drive all humans off the island…

It just now dawned on Iceland just _what_ that woman was asking him to do to get rid of his curse. The elven queen… She wanted him to sacrifice the newly gained independence of his people, to _slaughter_ his _own people_, for the sake of her and her kin? The very people that had banished Iceland from their midst and kept the gateway to their hidden kingdom firmly closed, even when Iceland knelt before it in the freezing rain and begged to be forgiven. That... insolence!

It was nothing but blackmail of the worst sort, and Iceland be damned if he succumbed to such a thing. He had his pride.

At that moment, burning anger was born in Iceland's numb heart. At first it was just the hint of a flame, but it quickly grew to a roaring hellfire. Iceland dug his fingers into his scalp, grabbed his silver hair and pulled until it hurt. _That... woman!_ he thought. _That utterly, completely crazy… To think I ever loved her, that I had ever dreamt of becoming her king!_

"How dare she treat me like this!" Iceland boomed, rising from his seat and startling the puffin who was still trying to escape. "She will pay," Iceland swore, clenching his fists. "She will pay for this. Dearly."

There was a deadly glint in his eyes, a glint that hadn't been there since Iceland's Viking years. The bloodlust raged through his veins, turning his irises a blood-red colour - even though the moon was only half-full. Iceland turned briefly into Laki before turning back into himself again.

Utterly confused, Iceland stared at his hands. The bound puffin lay dumbstruck on the floor, he hadn't gotten very far in his escape, staring at Iceland with horror in its black bead eyes when the latter turned into a loudly cackling Laki and then back again.

_What is happening? The curse… Had Iceland's loss of control affected it?_

Iceland kept turning between Laki and himself: intermittent outbursts of insane laughter rang throughout the house. Iceland grabbed the edge of the kitchen table to keep himself steady, but he felt his strength leave him and soon he lost his grasp on the table and collapsed to the floor.

_Help! Someone – Fae! Brother! – help!_

Iceland thrashed about in agony as his two personalities waged a battle inside him: His calm exterior personality clashed with his inner, angry Laki. As their struggle for control over his body fell in and out of their favour, Iceland's eyes flashed between red and blue and the pain of turning rose and calmed like the waves of the sea. Iceland let out a feral scream. His nails dug into the wooden floorboards, scratched at them in a hopeless try to dull the pain, and when that didn't work he scratched at his own face until his fingers were stained with blood.

_Stop it! Stop it!_

A wild, malicious laughter answered Iceland's inner cries – a laughter echoing from deep inside himself.

_Who's there?_

The laughter stopped abruptly.

Images of the elven queen danced before Iceland's eyes. This was all her fault. Her and her curse and her wishes and her promises… Iceland let himself be consumed by his anger and hate towards her. Through the pain, Iceland could feel one, single wish burn hotter than even his wish to be free of his curse.

_I'll find you,_ Iceland swore in his mind. _And when I do, I'll kill you - and I'll kill everyone who stands in my way, elf or human. You shall feel my wrath… Titania._

As if her name held a spell to soothe him, Iceland felt his pain reside. His eyes settled. The two colours of his split character - the blue ice of his frozen heart and the red hot fire of his inner anger - merged into a deep purple that had never before adorned Iceland's face.

_So, you have chosen this,_ a voice said in his head.

_I have chosen revenge,_ Iceland answered, out of breath even in his own mind. He was spread out on the kitchen floor, pearls of sweat on his skin and exhaustion evident on his face.

_No,_ said the voice. _You have chosen the only path to freedom._

In the highlands, a volcano started erupting, even though it wasn't due for another thirty years – an ominous sign that something was very out of place in Iceland. Very out of place indeed.

* * *

_**Author's comments:**__ And the name is… Titania! It was the awesome _Ciel Farron_ who suggested that name! I see what you did there… Titania: queen of fairies in Shakespear's _A Midsummer Night's Dream._ (Ciel Farron, I'll send you a PM with further instructions on how to obtain your price). _

_Thank you everyone else who submitted! Don't be sad that your name wasn't used this time around, it might appear later on in the story on a random side-character – although only one person gets the main-price… You all rock!_

_Historical titbit of today! That speech of president Sveinn was real, translated word to word. At the time of the Republican Celebration people really were worried whether or not the King of Denmark wanted to congratulate Iceland or not, because they had heard nothing from him since Iceland had declared itself a republic. But when president Sveinn made his speech, people were so relieved that they accidentally shouted hurray four times instead of three!_

_I wonder what that voice in Iceland's head was? Hmm… ;) And, his eyes are finally the right colour! _


	9. Hearing Voices

_**Story:**__ Spellbound_

_**Author:**__ ShrapnelGirl_

_**Exclaimer:**__ All Hetalia characters belong to Hidekaz Himaruya._

_**Author's comments:**__ Here's the eighth chapter! I'm so sorry _Ciel Farron_ for not having put your character into this chapter as I promised. I have integrated her into the plot though and she'll definitely appear in the next chapter, I promise! I just had to write this part out first to make everything fit together. I hope you're not mad with me… I'm sorry!_

_I'm sorry if there's too much inner monologue in this chapter for you guys, that will change in the future. Also, I broke another promise since Mr. Puffin does not turn human in this chapter (I'm failing so much). Instead, he'll definitely turn in the next chapter!_

_All this fail is happening because I keep writing every scene out much more detailed than I planned. Actually, the whole thing in the 19__th__ century wasn't even supposed to take one chapter, let alone six! And we still haven't reached the point in the story I had initially decided to start it at… _

_ORZ_

_Thank you everyone who faved, followed and commented! Enjoy the story!_

* * *

_Chapter 8 – Hearing Voices – Reykjavík, winter of 1944_

Iceland sat at the kitchen table, stroking the softly snoring puffin in his lap. All feelings of fear, confusion and even nervousness were gone from his mind. All Iceland could feel was naked anger.

_Titania,_ he thought. _I shall get my revenge on you…_

It would be difficult. Iceland knew that, and he didn't care. He was prepared to go to any length to exact his revenge on that egoistic queen. She had made his life a living hell – Iceland planned to do the exact same thing to her. But she was mighty while he was not, and going against the queen of the hidden people, the mightiest of all elven races, was impossible without meticulous planning and strong allies. The planning, Iceland could provide on his own, but the allies…

All he had were the members of his Nordic family and, at least until the end of the war, America. Out of those, only Norway and Greenland were experts at magic. Iceland would need more allies than that if he wanted to succeed against Titania. He'd need England, Romania… Any other nation with magical abilities. He'd need the help of nations that were experts at conducting war, and nations that were experts in mythology and in dealing with the occult…

Too bad Iceland was just an unimportant little island that no one gave a rat's ass about. Until a few years ago, Iceland had been what the more developed nations liked to call a 'third-world country'. He had also spent most of his life in near-isolation from the world, only dealing with other nations when absolutely necessary, and that happened only rarely. Most of the time, Iceland hadn't needed to talk to other nations: Norway had done it for him, then Denmark and now America…

Iceland felt so useless. He doubted that anyone would help him even if he begged for help. Most nations probably didn't even know how Iceland looked or sounded like, or even what his personality was like. How was he to gain the goodwill of his fellow nations?

_I can help, _came a ghostly voice from inside Iceland's head.

Iceland startled.

_Who's there?_ he thought. He recognized the voice as being the one that had spoken to him before.

_You know who I am,_ came the answer. The voice chuckled. _After all, I've been with you for such a long time, it's surprising that you are hearing my voice only now. All this time, I've been speaking to you - and all this time you haven't been listening…_

Realization hit Iceland.

_Laki,_ he thought.

_Bingo!_ Laki cheered. _Here I am! The jolly voice in your head, ready for service!_

_Why are you in my head? _Iceland thought. _Aren't you supposed to appear only during full moons?_

_I'm a part of you_, Laki said. _Just like your lungs, your heart, your brain… I don't appear and disappear. I just take over our body._

_It's not _our_ body,_ Iceland thought. _It's _my_ body._

_Whatever,_ Laki said. _From now on, it's our body. Haven't you noticed the change? The purple eyes, your anger… We are _one_ now. _

The change in Iceland's body and personality hadn't escaped the Arctic nation, he had just been hoping that it was all a dream. But hearing Laki speak of it, even though Laki was a voice in his head, made Iceland give up all hope of it not being real.

_So, I'm stuck with you?_ Iceland thought.

_I'm afraid so,_ Laki replied_. But that doesn't necessarily have to be a bad thing. I can help you, you know._

_How?_ Iceland thought. He sincerely doubted that Laki could help him with anything other than the killing of innocent animals or pranking people.

_I can help you get the other nations on your side,_ Laki said. _I am the confidence you need to confront them face to face, the arrogance you need to demand their help, the pride that will awe them all into respecting you. I am all those parts of you that have been locked away with the elven queen's curse._

_You mean to say that you're not just some evil monster that's been bound to me by the curse, but my alter ego that has been split off of my real personality?_ Iceland thought. _That's absurd._

_You're the embodiment of an entire nation, Iceland,_ Laki replied. _Now _that's_ what I call absurd._

_Fair point,_ Iceland thought. _What's your big idea then?_

Laki laughed darkly.

_This war must end sometime,_ he said. _And the world meetings will be resumed. I say, we take our first world meeting by storm – show those conceited bastards that we are not to be bullied just because we're small. _

_And how do we do that? _Iceland thought.

_Leave that to me, _Laki said._ Unlike you, I'm an expert in the dark arts of manipulation and coercion…_

_What choice have I got?_ Iceland thought.

_None,_ Laki replied. _You must place your trust in me. Don't worry, I hate Titania just as much as you. I will bring us to our goal. My beloved, little Iceland…_

Iceland couldn't help thinking that he had sold his soul to his own personal devil. The thought made Laki almost choke on his own laughter.

* * *

Thankfully, Laki didn't comment on every thought of Iceland's. He seemed to interfere only when it suited him – all other times Laki kept to himself, lurking somewhere deep inside Iceland's consciousness, listening in on his thoughts and feelings. This made Iceland nervous, but he quickly got used to it. Somehow, rather logically Iceland thought, he felt intimate with his evil alter ego. Besides, what Laki learned from Iceland he could only tell others during full moons…

Speaking of full moons: Iceland wondered if he would still turn, now that he and Laki's personalities had merged somewhat. Was this the end of his curse?

_No,_ Laki said. _You will still turn. This is just… A little side effect, courtesy of your immense fit of anger._

_My anger made us merge_? Iceland thought. _But why?_

_I am your anger,_ Laki said. _And your hatred and lust and murderous intent… When you feel those feelings, you draw them from me._

_And when I decided to exact my revenge on Titania… _Iceland thought.

… _you also decided to integrate that part of me into your otherwise icy personality, _Laki finished._ And thus, we merged. It's obvious really, when you think about it._

His voice disappeared, leaving Iceland to ponder upon that news in peace.

_So Laki is my anger and hatred and just about anything else I haven´t been feeling so much for the past centuries,_ Iceland thought. That made sense, in a weird sort of way. Iceland had spent most of his life after he was cursed trying to block out most emotions, and that hadn't been hard. If only he had known that the monster inside him was not that alien to him…

Iceland sighed. It wouldn't help him much to regret his past. All he could do now, was to focus on the future. Focus on his anger and hate towards Titania. Who knows, perhaps killing her was the only way to stop the curse?

The puffin in Iceland's lap stopped snoring and turned in its sleep. Iceland patted the exhausted thing mechanically. He had no idea why the bird had gotten fond of him after all it had witnessed. Perhaps it planned to continue spying on Iceland for Titania.

_Let it,_ Iceland thought. _Let it spy as it please, and bring news of my hate and anger to Titania. Let her know that I am coming for her. I don't care. I hope it will break her cruel, selfish heart._

Iceland heard a key being turned in the outdoor lock and stiffened. He had forgotten the time. America must be taking Fae home now. What would they think when they saw Iceland's face?

Iceland could still feel the sting of the scratches. He looked at the window, studying his reflection against the dark glass. The angry red scratches were stark against his porcelain white face, with lines of dried blood running from his forehead down to his chin and staining his white, unbuttoned shirt. All that was enough to give Fae a heart attack, not to mention the change in Iceland's eye colour. And was his hair a little lighter than usual? Iceland couldn't see it quite clearly, his reflection in the glass wasn't clear enough to tell, but it looked more white-ish than silvery now.

Even through the door in the hall, Fae's shrill laughter could be heard. When she managed to open the door, after several failed attempts, Iceland could also hear America's voice. He seemed to be telling a joke.

"Shhh…" Fae whispered loudly when they were inside. "Don´t be so loud. You'll wake him up."

America chuckled.

"I'm not loud," he said – about as quiet as a damn foghorn. "You're the one laughing."

Both of them chuckled at that. Judging by the sounds of their unstable footsteps, the two of them were probably drunk. Iceland smiled. That Christmas-party seemed to have been a success. For a brief while, Iceland was proud of himself for having suggested to America to take Fae with him to the party. That girl spent too much time cooped up inside for her own good, a little merry-making had been sure to brighten her mood.

"Come to the kitchen," Fae slurred. "Ice has some Black-Death reserves there."

"Black-Death!" America shouted, startling the sleeping puffin in Iceland's lap. "Hell yeah! Let's go drink some Death!"

He shut up abruptly when he spotted Iceland in the kitchen. Iceland turned his face away from the two jolly drinkers, hoping they would move on without seeing the state of him.

"Uh, hi," America said. He scratched the back of his head, sounding embarrassed. "We totally weren't planning to drink all your alcohol, dude. We just…"

"He won't mind," Fae cut him off, smiling. "He rarely drinks." She pushed past the American and into the kitchen, twirling around on the floor excitedly before losing her balance and almost falling. She giggled. "Oh, Ice! You won't believe it!" Fae said as she clung to the fridge in a losing battle to not sink to the floor. "There were so many people there, and even a Santa Claus who gave everyone presents! I got… Oh god! What is this? Iceland, what happened to your face?"

Iceland turned his face, slowly. He dreaded what was to come. When his purple eyes met his sister's, she gave a horrified gasp.

"What's happened?" America asked, alarmed. Then he too caught sight of Iceland's face and paled. "Ice?" he asked. "Dude, this isn't funny. It's Christmas, not Halloween."

"Is it full moon yet? It can't be, it's not supposed to be full moon. I'd have known it," Fae rambled as she hurried as fast as she could to her brother. Carefully, she lifted his chin, giving her a better view of his face. Her drunk eyes wandered for an entire minute before she could make sense of what she saw. "Your eyes…" she said, confused. "They're purple…"

"Really?" America said. He was beside Fae in a flash, his chin pressed against hers to get a better look of Iceland. "Wow, that's so cool! Are you wearing contact-lenses?"

Iceland scrunched his nose at the smell of alcohol on their breaths. Annoyed, he waved the two nations out of his face and made an attempt to stand up. That didn't sit well with the puffin on his lap, who dug his claws into his thighs to protest. Iceland yelped. He decided to remain sitting.

"Is that a penguin?" America asked, wide eyes fixed on the puffin.

"No it's not," Fae said. "It's a puffin… Iceland, what happened to you?"

"It's nothing," Iceland said. It were the first words he spoke since his eyes changed: His voice was raspy and barely audible. Iceland cleared his throat. It hurt. Must be from all his screaming earlier. "My eyes just suddenly started changing. It hurt so much that I scratched my face. It's no biggie."

"No biggie?" Fae repeated. "How is that not a biggie! What if it's connected to your _curse_!"

Iceland stiffened. Fae put her hands in front of her mouth, eyes wide in horror. The two siblings looked at America, who was still staring at the puffin.

Had he heard?

When America noticed the two Nordics looking at him, he flashed them a sheepish smile.

"Little Pingu here is cute," he slurred, ending his sentence in a stifled burp.

Iceland and Fae sighed simultaneously in relief. America hadn't heard Fae's slip of tongue. What he did hear however, was the puffin's angry growl.

"I'm not a Pingu!" the puffin yelled, causing all three nations to startle and look at it. "I can fly!" To prove his words, the puffin jumped out of Iceland's lap, waddled out to the floor and started beating its wings. It didn't fly. When the puffin realized that, it panicked, flapping its wings even harder, but stopping abruptly and crying out in pain. "Damn it! I still haven't regained my strength from being tied up earlier. Iceland, this is all _your_ fault!"

The puffin pointed accusingly at Iceland with its wing, black-button eyes full of anger.

"Oh my god! A talking penguin!" America yelled.

Fae squealed. "It's so cute! C'mere Mr. Puffin. Come to aunt Fae…" she said in a sing-song voice, holding a hand out to the puffin and beckoning it to her. Mr. Puffin stared at her in disbelief.

"Mr. Puffin?" he said baffled. "Mr. Puffin? What kind of a name is that?"

"It's better than Pingu," Iceland said, earning himself a deadly glare from the puffin.

"I am _not_ a Mr. Puffin, miss," Mr. Puffin said. "I am… I am…"

"Nameless?" Iceland offered.

"No!" Mr. Puffin shouted. "I'm… I'm… Oh, damn it. I'm Mr. Puffin."

Iceland chuckled at the look on Mr. Puffin's face.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Puffin," Fae said. She curtseyed before the puffin in a ladylike manner. "It's a very respectable name," she continued. "A little like… a gentleman puffin."

Iceland could see how Mr. Puffin swelled with pride. He seemed to like his new name already.

"Yeah," America said. "You're dressed for the part and everything. All you need is a bowtie, and to get rid of your ridiculous beak…"

Mr. Puffin's proud look turned into an angry stare.

"What's wrong with my beak?" he shouted and flapped his wings. "There's nothing wrong with my beak! It's perfect!"

"Woah! Calm down," America said. This only angered the bird further. Mr. Puffin squawked angrily and attacked America. "Hey! Stop that!" America screamed. Mr. Puffin did not obey. He tried to bite America's leg, forcing the American to run around the kitchen to get away from him.

"Say you're sorry!" Mr. Puffin yelled. "Say you're sorry for insulting my beak!"

"I´m sorry!" America screamed.

"That's not enough!" the angry puffin yelled and tried again to grab a hold of America's leg. This time he succeeded.

"Imsorryimsorryimsorry!" America yelled and fled out of the kitchen, puffin hanging onto his leg by a multi-coloured beak. His screams grew fainter as he moved further away from the kitchen. A loud crash was heard.

The siblings remaining in the kitchen looked at each other with wide grins on their faces.

"I like that bird," Iceland said. "Let's keep it."

"We'll have to teach it not to swear," Fae said, concerned.

They laughed. It was the first time in ages that the two of them had laughed together.

"Should we save America?" Fae asked. "He's our guest after all…"

"Let's," Iceland said. "And when everything has calmed down, we'll go to sleep. I'm tired."

America stayed over that night, and Mr. Puffin got to sleep beside Iceland in the master bedroom. Iceland fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

* * *

_Ice-land… Iceeee-laaaand… Wake up!_

Iceland jolted awake at Laki's loud voice in his head.

_What?_ he growled in his thoughts. _I was sleeping._

_I know how to make your life a little easier,_ Laki teased. _Guess how._

_I'm not playing a guessing game with you, _Iceland said. _I'm trying to sleep. Do you know what time it is?_

_No, _Laki said._ And I don't care. I don't sleep._

That was news to Iceland.

_You don't? _he asked. He then immediately decided he didn't care, since Laki was an asshole for waking him up. _Shut up, _he thought._ Let me sleep._

_So rude, _Laki said, chuckling._ And I thought you'd want to hear how you can start loving your family without having to worry about them being cursed…_

_You've found a way? _Iceland thought, instantly awake. He sat up in his bed.

_Actually, _Laki said._ I've known the solution for three hundred years, but never seen any gain in telling you about it._

"You asshole!" Iceland said out loud. He was tensed at the sound of his own voice. Eyes immediately shot to Mr. Puffin who cuddled up beside him, still sleeping soundly despite the noise. Iceland relaxed. He was starting to believe that nothing but America's foghorn voice could wake that bird from its sleep.

_Now now. No need to be so rude._ Laki chuckled. _Rememeber that we just became allies. Before, we were enemies. Would you tell your enemy something as important as this?_

_I don't even know what _this_ is,_ Iceland thought. He was sleepy - and Iceland was notoriously ill-tempered when he was sleepy. _Get to the point._

_The exact words of Titania when she cast the curse were: __You and the one you love the most will transform...You will have no control over your actions. No counter-spell will be able to save you..._

Laki seemed to take joy in reciting those most hated words to Iceland. His voice was laced with sadistic glee.

_I know those words,_ Iceland said. _By heart. There is no need to recite them to me._

_Then you must be stupid to never have thought of this,_ Laki snorted. _Just pick a harmless victim and start loving them until they are cursed. Then make sure you nurture your love for them so they always remain the person you love the most. Thereby, your family, friends and anyone else you might hold dear will be safe._

Pick a victim? Iceland almost let out a laugh. Now that was something he would definitely never have thought of himself.

_That's a lousy idea,_ he thought. _I'm going back to sleep._

_Think a little,_ Laki said. It's _not a bad idea. I already know who the perfect victim is._

_I don't care,_ Iceland thought. He yawned and lay down. _I'm not victimizing anyone._ He buried his head in his warm pillow. _I just want to sleep for a few hours…_

_Not even that annoying, talking puffin-spy?_ Laki offered. _Think about it. He's the enemy: He was sent her by Titania to spy on us, and he'll probably continue to spy as long as he remains with us. _

Iceland hugged his pillow. As much as he hated admitting it, he had started considering Laki's idea.

_Go on,_ he thought.

_That little puffin is rather cute, don't ya think?_ Laki continued. _He's perfect: A soft little bird, a bit rowdy and unintentionally funny in the way he looks and walks. That guy is the natural-born clown of the animal kingdom. He'll be easy to love. And even if he's cursed, when he turns he won't be a danger to anyone. It's easy to just lock him up in a cage or something during full moons. And who knows, the curse might make him live longer, or it might not. In any case, you'll get a few years of carefree bonding with your family _and _a perfect way to punish that bird for spying on you. Not a bad deal, huh?_

Iceland opened his eyes and looked at the bird beside him on the bed. He had known Mr. Puffin since he was a broken-winged little chick – but of course, he hadn't known that the bird had flown into the walls of his house with ulterior motives. But putting him under a terrible curse, could Iceland be so cruel? Even though the bird was a spy…

And another thing: If Iceland started loving Mr. Puffin as his best friend and family, that meant that he would _care_ about the animal. And how could he keep nurturing his love for the bird, knowing that his love hurt it?

Fae's worried face came to Iceland's mind. She had endured so much while living with him, all for the sake of her love for him. He owed her this – didn't he? Now that he had the solution, not using it would be the same as betraying his sister, Norway and all the rest of his family.

He had never been able to love them, to really be a part of the family. And how he _yearned_ for exactly that. Right now, Iceland was sure his family needed him. Half of them were conquered nations, the others were damaged by the war. There was no knowing what the future might bring, but whatever happened, Iceland wanted to be able to be there for his family during the difficult times that no doubt would follow this war. He could be of no help if he was emotionally restricted…

_I'll do it,_ Iceland thought. It would be the hardest thing he'd done in his life, but he'd do it. It was time Iceland did something to reach out to his family. He owed it to them for all their help and concern.

_Good boy,_ Laki said. _Let's start by hugging the thing right now._

Iceland did as he was told. He snuggled against the warm, feathery body of Mr. Puffin and hugged it until he fell asleep.

* * *

The next morning everyone woke up late. It was already noon when Iceland came downstairs, finding two hung-over nations and one pissed-off seabird gathered at the kitchen table.

"You guys look terrible," Iceland said as he sat down. "You look like two homeless people had broken into my kitchen to make themselves breakfast." America and Fae both looked up at Iceland, each of them sporting reddened eyes with dark rings under them and tousled, unkempt hair. America's clothes were wrinkled, as if he had slept in them last night. "Where are your glasses?" Iceland asked him.

"Lost them last night when the damn bird attacked me," America grumbled. Mr. Puffin shot him a deadly glare.

"You insulted my beak!" he said.

America hid his face in his hands, clearly not in the mood to start that argument all over again.

"I think you look worse than us, Ice," Fae said softly. As she studied Iceland's face, her look of worry intensified. "Did you remember to disinfect the scratches on your face?"

"I did," Iceland said, even though he hadn't. Last night he had gone to bed immediately after calming Mr. Puffin down and getting him to stop attacking America. "They will heal quickly." That part at least was true. When Iceland had washed the blood out of his face that morning, he had seen that the scratches were closed already and had turned into bright pink lines on his skin.

Sometimes, being a nation and not a human had its perks.

Fae reached out and touched Iceland's cheek with her fingers. She didn't mention his eyes. Iceland suspected that she was going to save that subject until after America had left.

Too bad America wasn't in on that plan.

"What the hell happened to your eyes, dude?" he said. "Why did they suddenly change colours? And why the hell did it hurt so much that you almost scratched out your own_ face_?"

Iceland shrugged.

"I'm a republic now," he said. "My eyes must have changed because of that." It was an explanation he had thought of earlier, when he was washing his face. It was an unlikely one, but the best one he managed to think up with such short notice.

America hummed.

"I still think it's weird," he said.

"My country is going through the most radical changes in its history as we speak," Iceland said, putting all the conviction he could muster into his words. "We are independent for the first time in ages, suddenly have more contact with other countries than ever before and people are starting to live in cities instead of small towns. The optimism of my nation has already changed my personality – why should my physical features not be affected by it?"

America seemed sceptical, but accepted the answer nonetheless. After breakfast he said goodbye to the siblings. Apparently he had some work to do. As soon as he was out of the door, Fae stood up and hugged her brother.

"I'm worried about you," she said. "I don't believe your eyes changing colour have anything to do with your nation… It simply must be your curse."

Iceland smiled reassuringly.

"Don't worry. It's not the curse," he lied. "I feel fine. All of this – the change of my eye colour, the changes in my nation – is good. It means we're progressing." Iceland touched his sister's cheek. "It's just too bad we don't have the same eye colour anymore."

Fae smiled a heart-broken smile. She knew he was lying to her. Iceland could tell.

"You're right, brother," she said. "All is good." She hugged him tighter before letting go of him. "I'll clean the table. You go teach that puffin of yours some manners."

"Will do," Iceland responded. He watched his sister's back as she went about her business, cleaning the table like she always did.

_One day,_ Iceland promised her in his mind. _One day, I'll be able to love you like a brother should and we'll be happy. One day we can all be a real family… One day._

* * *

_**Author's comments: **__As you guys should be able to tell by now, we are headed to a rather eventful post-WWII world meeting where we will meet a whole bundle of other nations. I have already mentioned this to some of my readers, but I intend to let _you guys_ choose which Hetalia characters show up in that meeting. Some of the nations might even linger around…_

_A few people have already cast their vote (although they can always vote again, just not for the same characters), leaving the score thusly: Russia has two votes, while France, Japan, England, Germany, Estonia and Latvia all have only one vote. _

_If you guys have any favourite characters you would like to see in the story, don't hesitate to leave a comment or send me a PM with your vote! The world meeting will appear two or three chapters from now, and you guys have time until then to state your views. After that, _voting will be closed!

_So go ahead. You don't even have to be logged in to leave a review (I have that option turned on). Just take a few minutes after reading this chapter to write some country names into the little box down there ↓ - you don't even have to write anything else, I'll be happy enough just knowing that you care enough about my story to want to see your favourite character in it, so there is no need to leave a review._

_Oh, and also: The character with the most views will become a key character in the plot, so choose wisely! :Þ_


	10. Progress

_**Story:**__ Spellbound_

_**Author:**__ ShrapnelGirl_

_**Exclaimer:**__ All Hetalia characters belong to Hidekaz Himaruya. Lauren Solomon belongs to Ciel Farron.  
_

_**Author's comments:**__ Here's the ninth chapter of Spellbound. I'm sorry if it feels rushed. This is kinda the transition chapter between the first part and the main part of the story… In only a few chapters we'll find out what this story is all about! Yeah! Well, of course it's about Iceland's curse, but things run deeper than that. I'm not gonna spoil ;)_

_Oh, and _Ciel Farron_'s character finally appears! And we get to meet human!Puffin for the first time! Yay! Please enjoy! (Happy Easter to those who celebrate it!)_

**I'd like to thank Silverblueroses **_**(**__**u/2432057) **_**for making the cover for Spellbound! Check out more of her art here: silverblueroses. deviant art . com**

* * *

_Chapter 9 – Progress – Reykjavík, autumn of 1945 / London, winter of 1946_

A few months after Iceland's personality merged with Laki's, on the day the Second World War came to an end, Iceland awoke in the arms of a naked man he had never seen before. As Iceland blinked the sleep out of his eyes he mustered the stranger's toned body, soft black hair and peaceful, sleeping expression…

Then he realized what was happening. And shrieked like a little girl.

"Wah! Get away from me!"

Iceland wiggled out of the stranger's warm embrace and fell out of the bed. As he scrambled backwards into the nearest wall, the stranger yawned and opened his eyes.

"Ice?" the stranger said in a rough, all too familiar voice. "What's the matter?"

Iceland just stared. Inside his head, Laki was going haywire with laughter.

_You brazen little hussy, Ice!_ Laki yelled. _Don't even remember his name!_

_You know anything about this_? Iceland's thoughts were racing. He was certain that he had never seen that man before. In fact, he was more than certain than he had gone to sleep like normal last night, with only Mr. Puffin as his company…

Laki laughed even harder.

"Hey, Ice…" The stranger sat up on the bed, unwittingly exposing his naked body even further. "Why so quiet? You having another fit?"

_Fit?_ Iceland thought. _What kind of… Oh._

The merging. Iceland could understand how that could have looked like a fit to someone not in the know. But how did this stranger know? There was only one person who had witnessed that event, and that was…

"Mr. Puffin?" Iceland asked, baffled. "Is that you?"

The dark-haired man on his bed gave a strange squeak and flapped his elbows as if they were wings.

"Of course I am!" he retorted. "What's gotten into you Ice? Can't recognize a friend?"

"You're… human," Iceland said.

Mr. Puffin sent him a weird look.

"Human? Me? Ice, were you drinking until morning again or something?" Without waiting for an answer, Mr. Puffin rose up from the bed, shook his behind like a bird wagging its tail and headed for the door. "You little alcoholic," he sneered as he opened the door with both wrists, unaware that he had opposable thumbs now. "Fae's so gonna hear of this. She'll ground you for a week!"

A wicked smile crossed Mr. Puffins lips, then he was out the door. Iceland was too shocked to react.

_Hey Ice, you asleep?_ Laki chuckled. _He said he's gonna tell Fae. Guess where he's headed… _

"Shit."

Iceland jumped to his feet and raced out the door, but he was too late. Terrified screams and loud clattering of metal falling to the floor rang throughout the house. Iceland bee-lined for the kitchen.

"Get out! Get out!" Fae screamed. Iceland froze in the doorway. Fae had grabbed a knife from the knife stand and now threatened Mr. Puffin with it. A pan lay at her feet in the middle of a fried-egg massacre. "Get out I said!" she hissed. Mr. Puffin seemed very much disturbed by the sight.

"What's gotten into you siblings today?" he said, a hurt expression on his face. "You act as if I had transformed into some terrible monster."

"I have never seen you before," Fae assured the naked stranger. She had a ferocious glint in her eyes. "Now get out of my kitchen before I impale you or call the police or both!" Fae thrust her knife in the air, demonstrating an expert attack. Mr. Puffin backed away.

"Woa! Calm down. It's me, Mr. Puffin! Your friend! No need to impale me…"

Fae lowered her knife.

"Mr. Puffin?" She stared at the stranger's face – she probably tried her best to keep her gaze above waist-level. "That's impossible. Mr. Puffin is a bird."

"It's true," Iceland said. He had recovered enough to walk the few steps into the kitchen. "It seems this man really is our Mr. Puffin, transformed."

Mr. Puffin scoffed at this.

"What do you mean transformed…" He caught his jumbled reflection the aluminium exterior of the fridge and gawked. "What the?" Before Iceland or Fae could react, Mr. Puffin ran out of the kitchen, flapping his elbows as if he was attempting to fly. Iceland followed him to the guest bathroom. "My word!" Mr. Puffin exclaimed. "What's happened to my beautiful body!?" He turned to face Iceland, a look of absolute horror on his face. "My beautiful beak! My wings! They're all gone!" Mr. Puffin pulled at his new nose and ears. Tears welled up in his eyes. "I'm so ugly now…"

Iceland didn't know what to say. He stretched out a hand towards his friend, opened his mouth to say something but realized it was stupid and lowered his arm again. Fae appeared at his side. She had something in her arms.

"Here," she said. "Put this on and calm down. We'll figure this out over breakfast."

_You are an angel,_ Iceland thought as he watched Fae hand his old suit to a bewildered Mr. Puffin and calm him down with her soothing voice.

"I've never worn clothes before," Mr. Puffin said. He eyed the material in his arms sceptically.

"I'm sorry," Fae said. "It will make us feel better. We can't concentrate if you're running around naked…"

"I'll help you get dressed," Iceland said. He gestured to Fae to leave the bathroom, which she did, and closed the door. "Don't worry. As soon as you're dressed we can start thinking clearly, I'm sure of it. We'll figure this out."

He tried his best to believe it himself. Somewhere deep inside Iceland's mind, Laki chuckled softly. _I'm glad someone's amused_, Iceland thought. Laki's voice disappeared.

The black suit was a tad too small for Mr. Puffin – his human form was much burlier than Iceland's, but thankfully that suit was much too big for Iceland anyway. He had only worn it once, long before his independence. Denmark had deliberately ordered that suit way too big because he hoped Iceland would one day grow into it. It had hurt Iceland's pride - he was sensitive about his small frame - but he had never had the heart in him to get rid of the suit despite that. Deep in his heart, Iceland too hoped that he would one day grow into it.

"You look wonderful," Fae assured Mr. Puffin when they came out of the bathroom. "You've regained some of your puffin-y look!" In a failed attempt to make Mr. Puffin feel better, Fae tied his old bow around his neck. It was too short to fit comfortably. "I guess you need a bigger bow…" Fae said. Mr. Puffin's scowl intensified.

The trio remained silent until they were all gathered around the kitchen table with breakfast in front of them and steaming mugs of coffee in their grasps. Iceland sipped the scalding hot beverage as if it was nothing. Being a volcanic nation sometimes had its benefits. Mr. Puffin and Fae blew on their drinks to cool them down.

"So…" Iceland started. "I've got an idea as to what might have happened."

In fact, Iceland knew all about what had happened. He knew it all too good. The first clue: Laki's out-of-control laughter the moment Iceland noticed a naked man in his bed. Iceland´s alter ego seemed to know from the start what this was about. After all, the cause of all this had been his idea…

Fae and Mr. Puffin gave Iceland their full attention.

"I believe Mr. Puffin has been brought under my curse," Iceland said, matter-of-factly. He knew no other way to break the news to his housemates.

Blue and black eyes shot to Iceland, each pair as astonished as the other.

"But… How can that be?" Fae said, horrified. "That's only supposed to happen if… Oh god, Icy…"

"I guess I wasn't careful enough," Iceland said. He smiled wryly at the lie. Of course, bringing Mr. Puffin under his curse had been purely intentional, although Iceland had not been able to predict _this_ outcome. "I'm sorry, Mr. Puffin."

Mr. Puffin looked from one sibling to the other, seemingly not able to make sense of the conversation.

"Sorry for what?" he asked. "Icy, _you_ caused this? But why? I thought we were friends!"

"That's the root of all this," Iceland said. He put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "You're my best friend. I love you like a brother. And that's why you are now cursed."

Mr. Puffin stiffened.

"Cursed?" he said. "You mean all that fuss about locking you in the cellar during full moons? I'll be like that too?"

Up to this point, Mr. Puffin seemed to not have cared much about Iceland's curse. In fact, he'd avoided the subject altogether. Iceland had always been thankful for that. Having Fae worry about him all day and night was enough, he didn't need his pet to make a fuss also.

There had been no way to hide the truth from Mr. Puffin. It wasn't like with America, where the two Nordics had been able to keep him from visiting during full moons, claiming Fae was on her period and was ready to kill anything that moved… That lie had made America wary of the small island nation, but Fae had been more amused than troubled by that. Mr. Puffin on the other hand lived with the siblings. Hiding something this big from him had been useless, and so the siblings had told him the truth from the start. He'd never been interested in the details. Iceland was sure he regretted it now.

"The curse applies to both me and the person I love the most," Iceland explained. "And right now, that person is you."

Mr. Puffin shook Iceland's hand off of his shoulder.

"I never signed up for this," he hissed. "You never told me anything about this!"

"We never thought this would happen," Fae said. Her voice was sad and low, causing Mr. Puffin to control his anger long enough to give her a quizzical look. "Ice has always been careful to keep his distance from people," she said. "He's never loved anyone before. Not even me." She lowered her gaze, avoiding eye-contact. "I beg you Mr. Puffin, don't be angry at him. We never thought this could happen… And if, I always assumed it would be me brought under the curse and not someone else."

Was she… hurt? The mere thought made a cold knot of dread form in Iceland's guts. Fae had always thought he'd end up loving her the most. This must have come as the worst kind of backstabbing to her.

_Don't be sad,_ Iceland thought. _I keep my distance from you to protect you… Loving you, and turning you… That would hurt me more than anything. I know it would._

"That's… I don't know," Mr. Puffin said. "Sad? Damn, I had no idea…"

Fae finally looked up. She had tears in her eyes.

"Please don't be angry," she whispered. "We love you. We'd never hurt you on purpose. You're a part of the family now…"

Iceland nodded.

_I am the worst person in the world,_ he thought. Out loud he said: "Yeah, you're our family. We'd never do something bad to you on purpose."

Mr. Puffin seemed to contemplate their words. After a while, his furrowed brows relaxed and a shy smile spread across his lips.

"I guess you guys are my family too," he said. He put an arm around Iceland's shoulder. "Damn, I didn't know you guys cared about me that much. Guess that makes this whole curse-thing not so bad at all." He laughed. "Although being human might take some getting used to."

Iceland smiled weakly. He had the feeling Mr. Puffin was only acting so carefree to calm their worries.

"The next full moon is in ten days," he said. "We'll see what happens then."

Was that a look of fear in Mr. Puffin's new human eyes?

* * *

Turning… Now that was a little different since Iceland and Laki's personalities had merged some months ago. Instead of just watching Laki's actions from a far, Iceland found that he could communicate with his alter ego – their roles reversed completely as Laki took control of their body, with Iceland becoming the voice in Laki's head.

_You're like an annoying conscience,_ Laki had once remarked, giving Iceland reason to chuckle.

_And you're the devil on my shoulder,_ he'd replied.

Laki still yelled obscenities at Fae and tried to harm her, but he didn't try to use Iceland's thoughts and feelings against him anymore. It was almost like Laki was actively guarding Iceland's secrets: His plan to kill Titania, the plan to bring Mr. Puffin under Iceland's curse, his new body and mind... This confused Iceland. Why was Laki guarding Iceland's secrets when he had seen no reason to do so before? Had the merging of their personalities made them allies? Could Iceland really trust Laki?

_Of course you can,_ Laki commented on Iceland's thoughts. _Our goals are the same. _We_ are the same. Now that you have seen reason and have started to fight against Titania instead of just whining helplessly I will do anything to assist you._

Iceland did not argue with Laki's logic. As crazy as it sounded, Iceland felt like he could trust the voice in his head. After all, what choice did he have? Laki promised to gain the goodwill of other nations to help Iceland go against Titania – without his help, Iceland had no chance. Laki had already helped Iceland get rid of one of his problems: the inability to love anyone lest they be cursed.

Iceland made sure to nurture his love for Mr. Puffin. He wasn't ready to start mending the relationship with his sister though. First he had to make sure Mr. Puffin would always remain his number one.

_As soon as I'm sure,_ Iceland promised in his mind. _As soon as I can start loving you without hurting you, I'll be the best brother in the world. To you and Nor and everyone in our family. And I'll never let us grow apart again. Never._

And so he tried to spend as much time with Mr. Puffin as he could, teaching his friend how to use his opposable thumbs, go to the bathroom, comb his hair or simply: how to act _human_. Mr. Puffin cursed and complained the entire time, but after each session, he looked at Iceland with big, dark eyes full of gratitude that made Iceland feel like the worst traitor in the world. Mr. Puffin trusted him fully as his best friend and owner… And Iceland purposely strengthened their bonds to make sure Mr. Puffin would never leave him – not out of care for Mr. Puffin, but out of the desire to be with the people he considered his _true_ family.

It was a heart-wrenchingly difficult task. But Iceland owed it to his loves ones. And he owed it to the humanized puffin to never utter a word about his true intentions, lest he hurt his friend deeply.

* * *

The first night Mr. Puffin turned was hard for all of them. He was rude, loud, had a violent temper and cursed a lot… But that was his normal state. During full moons, that nasty personality of his grew even worse.

Laki was thrilled. It seemed as if he had gained a murderous companion who took part in his evil mind-games and helped him invent new obscenities to yell at their guardian. When Mr. Puffin turned back the next day, he was devastated at his behaviour towards Fae.

"I'm so sorry," he said. "It wasn't me. I know I can be mean, but honestly, I'd never say such cruel things to you…"

Fae smiled reassuringly.

"I know," she said. "Don't worry. I'm used to this. No need to feel bad about it."

Thankfully, neither Fae nor Mr. Puffin thought to question why Mr. Puffin seemed to have turned permanently human. Iceland was not about to raise the question with either of them. Instead he asked the voice in his head.

_Isn't it obvious,_ Laki sneered. _My word, Icey. You're helpless without me. Did you not mutate the curse when you merged with me? Are you not permanently stuck between your 'normal' form and your 'turned' form? Hm?_

_Mr. Puffin is stuck between being a talking puffin and a murderous human? _Iceland thought. _But why is he human at all? You said he wouldn't be dangerous when he turned._

Laki sniggered.

_I only assumed,_ he said. _How was I to know? Perhaps this curse is designed to make its victims as dangerous as possible. Can't you remember the wording? '__Every full moon you and the one you love the most will transform into the darkest, most evil versions of yourselves and terrorize the world.'_

_I know, _Iceland hissed in his mind._ You don't need to remind me._

_Clearly, I do, _Laki said._ Beside, it's kinda hard to terrorize the world when you're a puffin. A human is much more effective._

_You're right, _Iceland thought. He was getting tired of losing arguments to a voice in his head.

_I'm right about a lot of things, _Laki replied in an annoyingly cocky voice.

* * *

Needless to say, Mr. Puffin did not sleep in Iceland's bed anymore. Since there was only one guest bedroom, occupied by Fae, Mr. Puffin had to make his home in the cellar. The Nordic siblings thankfully didn't have to explain the strange man living with them to America – right after the end of the war, America and his army left.

It was a sad goodbye.

"We'll meet each other at world meetings," America had said, smiling sadly.

"I'm a colony," Fae had replied. "I can't go to world meetings…"

America's smile died immediately.

"I'll come for a visit on my holidays," he'd said then. "Just to say hi and hang out."

"You're a world superpower," Iceland said. "You'll be too busy to come meet us."

None of them spoke for a while. It was America who broke the silence.

"Where's Mr. Puffin?" he asked, looking around in Iceland's living room. "I'd like to say goodbye to him."

"He's not here," Fae lied. "He went to the Westman Islands to meet his family. It's a puffin tradition."

"We can give him your regards though," Iceland said.

Another heavy silence filled the room. All three nations were careful not to make eye-contact with each other, lest the mood become even more depressing. Finally, America sighed and stood up. He gave Iceland his hand.

"Thanks for everything," he said.

Iceland and Fae stood up as well.

"No," Iceland said. "Thank you. You've been much help to me in the last year…"

America smiled. Without warning, he embraced the siblings in a brief but tight hug.

"Take care of yourselves," he said. "And don't be sad. I'm sure we'll meet again someday."

The siblings watched with solemn expressions as America climbed into his truck and drove away. Fae grabbed Iceland's hand. They watched the jeep until it disappeared around a corner.

"Guess you'll have to really start relying on yourself now, Ice," Fae said.

Iceland nodded.

"Independence," he muttered as he closed the door. For the first time since he became a republic, he wondered about the future of his nation. What would happen to them once Iceland started going after Titania for real? And if Iceland ever got rid of his curse, how would that affect his people?

_There's no turning back,_ Laki reminded him. _I won't let you back down now._

Iceland shook his head. His eyes bore a fierce determination.

_I'm not backing down,_ he thought. _Not until she's dead_.

_Good,_ Laki said. _Very good. Let us continue the preparations for our first world meeting then. We'll need to know everyone's weak points if we are to succeed…_

* * *

The first world meeting after the end of the war was scheduled to take place on the 17th of January, 1946 in London, England – only a week after the first meeting of the newly formed United Nations. All national personifications were told to be civil to each other and refrain from mentioning the recent war if at all possible. It was expected to be a difficult meeting. And unfortunately for Iceland, the 17th of January would be a full moon.

"What do you mean I'm not allowed to go? I haven´t met the other Nordics for the entirety of the war!" Iceland yelled. "And I wanted to meet America again - you even wanted me to give him those mittens you knitted for him to keep him from forgetting us!"

"Ice…"

Fae bit her bottom lip. She seemed guilty about this whole thing, but Iceland was too mad to back down.

"This was supposed to be my first world meeting," he continued his ravings. "I simply have to go! My status as an independent republic will be announced to everyone at that meeting, and if I'm not there everyone might as well just forget me... I must be there!"

Fae shook her head.

"I'm sorry Ice. It´s just too much of a risk," she said.

"I'd be normal during the day," Iceland whined. "You could come with me and we could rent a house somewhere and chain me up during the night. It would be no problem. Honestly."

Fae didn't budge.

"The other Nordics have discussed this already," she said. "I received a telephone call this morning with explicit instructions_ not_ to let you go to that meeting. Aside from your curse, everyone else will also be on edge. Tensions will run high with Axis and Allies meeting on equal ground for the first time since the war – you know this. Things might get out of hand, and if something happens, anything at all, there might not be enough time to get you back to some safe-house and chain you up before you turn…"

Iceland cursed loudly, causing Fae to flinch. She really didn't like obscenities.

"I'm sorry," Iceland said. "I'm just angry."

Fae's gaze softened.

"I understand," she said. "But there's nothing I can do."

* * *

The argument seemed to end there. If not for a certain thing, Iceland might as well have missed his first world meeting. Only a day before the meeting, the doorbell of his little home in Reykjavík rang proudly.

"I'll get the door," Fae said. She left Iceland and Mr. Puffin in the kitchen - Iceland was teaching the latter how to eat spaghetti with a spoon and a fork - only to appear again shortly after with a strange look on her face. "Ice… It's a talking sheep. She says she has a message for you."

Iceland and Mr. Puffin looked up from their messy spaghetti-experiment, slightly annoyed at the disturbance.

_A talking sheep? Must be Titania's doing,_ Iceland thought. That was the only explanation he could think of. She had after all sent him a talking puffin before - why not a sheep?

"Why didn't you invite her in?" Iceland replied, faking apathy despite the surge of hate he felt at that moment. "I'll make coffee. We can't be known for being rude to our guests."

Fae shot him an odd look before fetching the talking sheep. She of course knew nothing about Mr. Puffin having been a spy for the elven queen. The sudden appearance of a talking sheep must have seemed strange to her.

The sheep turned down Iceland's offer for a cup of coffee, claiming to only eat grass. When it said that its message was a private one, Iceland invited it into his study and beckoned her to start talking.

"Baaa," she said, clearing her throat. "I'm here to relay a message from Titaaania, queen of the hiiidden people. She says that your deciiision time is over and demands an aaanswer."

"Aaanswer to what?" Iceland accidentally bleated. "Answer, I mean," he quickly added, hoping to not have offended the sheep.

Thankfully she didn't seem to mind.

"Wiiill you join her – or be her eeenemy?" the sheep bleated.

A wry smile crossed Iceland's lips.

"Enemy," he said. "Definitely enemy."

The sheep shook its head.

"Baaad decision," it said. "She will be veeery angry…"

"Good," Iceland said. "I want her to be. Tell her this from me: I'm going to hunt her down for what she did to me, and when I find her, I'll kill her. Got that?"

The sheep attempted a sheepish smile, but failed, instead showing a row of uneven sheep-teeth in a forced grimace.

"Aaactually…" she bleated. "I'm not suppooosed to return."

"You're not?" Iceland raised an eyebrow. "How are you going to relay my answer then?"

"I aaalready did," said the talking sheep. "Titaaania was here all along, hearing your answer for herseeelf."

"What?!"

Iceland looked around his study, trying to find any signs of an elven queen in his home, but found none. The sheep shook her head.

"She's gooone," she said.

Iceland cursed inwardly. To think Titania had been as bold as to enter his _home_ to spy on him _in person_! Such insolence! Such arrogance! Had she actually been expecting a positive answer? That Iceland would become her ally in an insane quest to slaughter his own people for her sake?

Suddenly, Iceland wanted nothing more than to bring his plan into motion as soon as possible. The sooner that conceited queen got what she deserved, the better.

"To hell with the moon," Iceland said. "I'm going to London."

He ignored Laki's cheers in his head as he left the puzzled sheep in his study, packed his bags and loaded them into his truck. When all preparations were finished, Iceland peeked into the kitchen.

"Mr. Puffin, can I borrow you for a moment?"

Mr. Puffin and Fae both looked up. Fae seemed to have taken over the spaghetti-eating lessons – the pair actually seemed to be making good progress. Mr. Puffin could now eat more than one strand of spaghetti at a time.

"What for?" Mr. Puffin said, swallowing the spaghetti he had been chewing.

"Just a little talk," Iceland said.

"Can it wait?"

Iceland shook his head.

"No."

Mr. Puffin reluctantly stood up.

"What happened with the sheep?" Fae asked, also standing up. "Did she leave?"

"She's in the study," Iceland said. "In fact, I think you should check up on her. Make sure she doesn't eat any of my books."

Before Fae could comment on that, Iceland and Mr. Puffin hurried out of the house and stepped into Iceland's jeep.

"Are we going somewhere?" Mr. Puffin asked.

Iceland flashed him a devious smile.

"Keflavík airport," he answered. "And from there: To the world meeting in London."

Mr. Puffin gawked.

"But! It's full moon tomorrow night!"

Iceland switched the engine on.

"I don't care," he said – and in a way typical of his nation, he added: "Þetta reddast."

* * *

Iceland dosed off on the airplane to London, resting his head on Mr. Puffin's shoulder. Mr. Puffin occupied himself by sitting straight and trying to look cool with the new sunglasses he had bought at the airport, moving only to straighten his bow or his suit.

Iceland woke up when the teenage girl sitting in the window seat climbed over him to go to the bathroom and found himself unable to fall back asleep. Annoyed, Iceland grabbed his journal and tried to work on his already very long skaldic poem about Ari Þorgilsson, but failed to concentrate. He tried to strike up a conversation with Mr. Puffin. That didn't go well either. Mr. Puffin only answered his questions with one-word answers.

"Are you excited to be going to a foreign country for the first time?" Iceland asked him.

Mr. Puffin fixed his sunglasses in a manner he probably hoped was _cool_.

"Nope," he said. Yet his hands were shaking.

Iceland decided to try to talk to the teenager beside him instead when she came back.

"You also bored?" he said to the girl to open the conversation.

The girl had just been getting a small book out of the front pocket of her hoodie. When Iceland flashed her a hopeful smile, she sighed and put her book back.

"Yeah, sure," she said and shrugged. "Are you also heading home after a vacation in Iceland?"

"I'm actually Icelandic and headed for London for a meeting," Iceland said. "Did you enjoy your vacation?"

The girl smiled.

"Yeah, it was cool. Your country is beautiful. I'm Lauren, by the way. Lauren Solomon."

"Ísleifur," Iceland said. It was his favourite human name. "And this statue here is my buddy, Lundi."

"Nice to meetcha," Lauren said.

For the rest of the flight, Lauren and Iceland talked about the beauty of Icelandic nature. It was a comfortable flight. Too bad it was only the calm before the storm.

* * *

_**Author's comments:**__ Thank you all for sticking with Spellbound this far! Having such loyal readers warms my heart and motivates me to continue to write this story. I hope you're not disturbed by Mrs. Sheep's strange manner of speaking. Lauren Solomon, Ciel Farron's character, will of course appear more in the next chapter. Hope you guys don't think I'm evil for not having her do more in this chapter!_

_And guess what? The 17__th__ of January 1946 really was a full moon! I had originally wanted to have the world meeting coincide with the first meeting of the UN, but that wasn´t a full moon and I'm a total sucker for historical accuracy… :Þ Plus, it would make sense for the nations to wait with their meeting until they could be safe that everyone didn't try to kill each other at the UN meeting, so it kinda fits, right?_

Þetta reddast_ is sort of an Icelandic mantra that you say when things are looking bad but you just don't care. It has a similar meaning to hakuna matada. Lundi means Puffin in Icelandic.  
_

_This is the current standing of your votes: England is in the lead with 4 votes, Japan is right behind with 3 votes, Russia, Germany and Latvia have 2 votes each and France, Estonia and Italy all have only one vote. _

_Really guys? No votes for the awesome Prussia, the magical Romania or any of the more underrated characters? You still have time to correct this :Þ_

**I might or might not keep to my schedule in the next two weeks since I'm headed for Greece to a conference and I'm not sure how much time I'll have to write – or whether or not I'll have free Wi-Fi at the hotel. If you don't hear anything from me in the next two weeks… Consider it a prolonged voting time ;)**


	11. Reunion with the NorDics

_**Story:**__ Spellbound_

_**Author:**__ ShrapnelGirl_

_**Exclaimer:**__ All Hetalia characters belong to Hidekaz Himaruya._

_**Author's comments:**__ Here's the tenth chapter of Spellbound. _Ciel Farron_, your character finally gets the appearance I promised! And as you see, she's actually rather important ;). I'm sorry if I don't portray her well enough and that not all the info you sent me could be fitted in. I did my best! If you want me to change anything, be it details about her, her way of speech or anything else, just PM me and I'll get to it!_

_This might be the only chapter I post for the next couple of weeks. I have finals to study for and essays to finish since it's the end of the term. I'll try my best to have the next chapter ready next weekend, but if I don't manage, please don't be mad at me! I'm human too…_

_Enjoy!_

* * *

_Chapter 10 – Reunion with the NorDics – London, winter of 1946_

They arrived in London shortly before midnight. Iceland yawned through the ramblings of the flight attendants and made an honest try to reset his watch to match the local time before he remembered that it was winter and that the time in England matched the local time in Iceland. Lauren, the friendly girl he had chatted to for most of the flight, was snoring lightly into her scarf. Iceland shook her gently.

"Lauren," he said. "We've arrived. Welcome to England."

Lauren opened her violet eyes, blinked and brushed a dirty blond lock out of her face.

"How long was I out?" she asked.

Iceland shrugged.

"Longer than Herra Lundi," he said, nodding towards a sleeping Mr. Puffin on his other side. "No more than half an hour though."

Lauren yawned.

"M'kay," she said.

At the baggage reclaim, Iceland and Mr. Puffin waited around with Lauren even though they only had hand luggage. For some strange reason, Iceland felt almost responsible for the girl. She had told him during the flight that she had been on a weeklong backpacking tour around his country – in the middle of winter. When Iceland asked her if she was crazy she just laughed.

"I have my reasons," she said, but refused to go into more detail. Iceland had left it at that. He didn't ask why she wore combat boots either – he figured she had got them at one of the stores that had popped up everywhere after the war, selling old uniforms and used army stuff. Maybe she was a spy?

But then again, what would a teenage spy be doing in Iceland?

"Do they have puffins in this country?" Mr. Puffin asked while the trio watched bags and suitcases go round and round on the baggage carousel, waiting for Lauren's bag to show up.

"Probably," Iceland said.

"You sure?"

Iceland shrugged.

"Nope," he said.

The trio stood in exhausted silence until Lauren found her bag. It had a large, Greek flag sewn on it.

"You from Greece?" Iceland asked. "You on a transit flight or something?"

Lauren flashed him a bright smile.

"I'm Greek, but I grew up speaking Greek and Welsh. I'm visiting some people in Wales before I head back to Greece."

"That's nice," Iceland said.

The trio made their way to the exit of the airport. There they stood, watching in silence as people got into cabs and drove away.

"What hotel are you guys staying at?" Lauren asked, breaking the silence.

Iceland and Mr. Puffin looked at each other. They had completely forgotten about a place to stay. Iceland usually never left his country unless he had a meeting with some other nation, and then he usually stayed at said nation's place or at a hotel prepaid by his government. How was he supposed to know that usually you needed to book a hotel in advance when going to a foreign country?

God, he was so useless.

"We actually didn't think about that…" Iceland said. Mr. Puffin coughed embarrassedly.

Lauren's eyes grew wide.

"You flew all the way to England without thinking about where to stay?" she practically yelled. A couple of people turned their heads towards her, which made Lauren visibly shrink and flush pink. "You guys…" she said, shaking her head.

"I guess you have a room reservation already?" Iceland asked.

Lauren nodded.

"Theoretically," she said, "you guys could come with me to the hotel and ask if they have a room…"

"Let's do that," Mr. Puffin said. "I'm so tired – right now, all I can think about is something warm to eat and a soft bed."

"Let's grab a taxi then," Iceland said.

Right as he finished the sentence, a black car pulled up. Iceland instinctively walked towards it and got in, ushering his two companions to do the same. He didn't pay attention to the fact that this black car didn't look at all like the other taxis he had seen around the airport, nor that it didn't have the trademark yellow sign…

When all three travellers were safely inside the car, the driver stepped on the gas so that the car shot forward abruptly. A low clicking sound was heard as the doors of the car locked simultaneously. For the first time, Iceland noticed that the passenger area of the car was separated from the front seats with iron bars. Also, there were two people in the front seats instead of just one.

"Hello there, Ice," said the driver. He adjusted the rear-view mirror so that Iceland could see his eyes. They were deep blue under blond eyebrows. Not that Iceland needed that detail to recognize the driver. That gravity-defying hair could not possibly be missed. Except Iceland had just managed to climb into the car without noticing it.

"Denmark," he said. And to the man in the passenger seat: "Norway. What are you guys doing?"

Denmark chuckled as he changed gears and sped past the other cars on the driveway. Someone honked angrily.

"Preventing disaster," he said.

"By kidnapping us?" Iceland asked, his voice cold. He should have expected something like that. Fae had probably realized he and Mr. Puffin were gone and put together two and two – she wasn't stupid, not matter how forgetful she could sometimes be. If Iceland knew her right, and he very much thought he did, she had probably made a tearful emergency call to the Nordics and begged them to stop him.

Iceland regretted having called the situation a 'kidnapping' when he saw the frightful look on Lauren's face.

"Do you know those guys?" she asked, her voice slightly shivering. Iceland put an arm around her shoulder and hugged her protectively.

"Don't worry," he said. "They won't do anything to us."

Two pairs of violet eyes met, one worried, the other expressionless.

"You sure?"

Iceland attempted a reassuring smile.

"Positive," he said.

"Sure baby!" Denmark yelled loudly, adjusting the rear-view mirror again to get a better look at Lauren. "We won't hurt you. We're actually nice guys, when our little bro here isn't doing foolish things. We'll drop you off at your hotel as soon as we're done asking you some questions."

Iceland wasn't sure if those words had comforted Lauren or not. She grew restless in his arms, so he let go, instead locking fingers with Mr. Puffin. The usually rather talkative former-avian had been terribly silent ever since they got on the plane to London. Iceland studied his friend's face for any signs of fright or nervousness but found none. Mr. Puffin was as expressionless as the champion of expressionlessness: Norway. His darkly tinted sunglasses didn't help either.

Mr. Puffin squeezed Iceland's hand when Denmark made a dangerous turn into an alley somewhere in London. Iceland cursed himself for not having paid attention to where they were going.

The car came to an abrupt stop in front of a red brick house – identical to about a million other red brick houses that they had sped past on the way. They all looked damaged, some more than others, probably from the air-raids during the war. Iceland wondered how Denmark knew that exactly this house was the one he was looking for, but then again, it's hard to miss a place when a tall Swede and a worried Finn are guarding the entrance – along with a practically dancing Ålander who's grinning side to side and bubbling with excitement. The young one probably found it hilarious that his uncle Ice was being kidnapped by his own family.

"The whole gang is here?" Iceland asked and raised an eyebrow. "Even Åland? I thought he wasn't allowed to go to meetings…"

"Sve and Fin couldn't find a babysitter," Norway said. "So they took him with them. Also, Greenland isn't here. Neither is Fae, but you knew that."

Denmark and Norway left the car to join the other Nordics. The group seemed to discuss something before approaching the car in two groups. When Sweden and Denmark opened the doors on either side, they made sure to give their prisoners no chance to escape.

"You know," Iceland said when Denmark grabbed his wrists and steered him inside the little brick house, "I could just scream and it would make someone look out the window and grow suspicious enough to call the police."

Denmark's answer was to kick the front door open and usher Iceland inside. He was led to a small bedroom on the second floor and made to sit on a bed there.

"Stay here," Denmark ordered. "I'll come back to get you later."

"What about my friends?" Iceland asked.

"Norway will decide on that. First we need to find out what they know about us already." Denmark stopped at the door to give Iceland a disappointed look. "Really, Ice. I thought you were smarter than that. Trying to go to the meeting is one thing, but to bring humans along? Really? You are lucky we love you so much, or you would go before the Council of Nations and possibly be put in prison for that."

"Thanks," Iceland said sarcastically when the door to his prison slammed shut.

_That didn't go so well,_ he thought to himself as he lay down on the bed. He crossed his arms behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. _I hope Lauren isn't scarred for life… And that they don't decide to send Mr. Puffin to some hotel far away. That guy's a puffin for god's sake. He won't have a clue how to take care of himself in a foreign country…_

Somehow, Iceland felt rather distant to all that had happened. Maybe it was because the shock was still sinking in, or because Iceland felt rather tired after the flight. He hated flying. If it wasn't so much slower, he would rather travel solely by ship.

Why hadn't Iceland expected this to happen? He could have prepared, been more careful…

_It's because you're an idiot,_ Laki snorted in his head.

_Look who's talking,_ Iceland retorted. _You didn't think of this happening either._

Laki went silent. Iceland grinned. It felt good to be on the winning end of their little banters for once. He rolled to the side and closed his eyes. He was so tired…

Resting for a few minutes did him a world of good. Iceland sat back up on the bed and cupped his chin with his hands.

_We need to get out of here_, he thought. _I need to get Mr. Puffin and go find the other nations before the meeting commences tomorrow morning. I have much better chance at convincing the nations one-on-one before everyone gets riled up – especially the former Allies and Axis Powers. A meeting with their former enemies will probably not soften their moods to my pleas._

_Get up and do something then, _Laki said._ Think of something! Or are you going to stay useless for the rest of your life?_

Iceland stood up.

_Like hell I am, _he thought. He had an idea already.

The other Nordics were much too trusting when it came to Iceland. Since the newly independent nation had spent most of his life following the orders of others, they naturally assumed that as soon as he was apprehended, Iceland would roll over like a limp sausage and be a good, obedient boy. They hadn't even thought of locking the door to his room.

It hurt Iceland's pride to be regarded as such a weakling. But he did not dwell on it. He ignored Laki's snide remarks in his head and tiptoed down the stairs to the living room where he heard voices. Iceland hid behind a wall, not daring to peek inside and be seen by the others.

"What do you mean when you say you live with Fae and Ice?" he could hear Denmark say. "We have heard nothing of a man staying with them… And Fae would definitely have told us."

Iceland smirked. He had told Fae to keep Mr. Puffin's human transformation a strict secret between the three. He had planned to give Mr. Puffin some time to assimilate and then hire him as a personal butler… Hopefully Mr. Puffin remembered that plan.

"I'm telling the truth," Mr. Puffin said, seemingly offended by the attack on his honesty. "I've been living with them for two years now. I am their personal butler."

_Good boy,_ Iceland thought. If Mr. Puffin was getting paid for his service, Iceland might have even considered giving him a raise for his outstanding performance.

"Butler?" Denmark said. He paused, probably to look Mr. Puffin over. "Is that why you are wearing an overly dressy suit?"

Iceland almost snorted. _You were the one who bought me that overly dressy suit, you idiot,_ he thought. _And now you don't even recognize it. Bastard._

"Sirs," Lauren's voice chirped in. "Won't you please let me go? I have to show up at the reception of my hotel before two a.m. or they'll lock me out for the night."

"What hotel are you staying at?" Finland said. "We could drive you there…"

"Not yet," Denmark interrupted. "We haven't yet established if she knows anything or not…"

"Please," Lauren said. "I don't know anything. I just met those guys in the plane and when they said they forgot to book a hotel I offered them to come with me. I don't know anything about your weird gang or why you've kidnapped us or why you keep referring to each other by weird code names…"

Iceland heard someone chuckle, but wasn't sure who. Lauren was probably referring to how they kept using their country names instead of the human names they had been given. _Turns out I'm not the only reckless one, _he mused. _At least I was smart enough to introduce myself with a human name…_

Iceland decided it was time for action. He needed to get Lauren out of there before Denmark or Åland said something classified that could result in her losing her freedom forever. Carefully he peeked inside the living room. Lauren and Mr. Puffin were sitting in a sofa in the middle of the room with the Nordics lurking over them to make sure they couldn't escape.

_Any idea how I'll attract Mr. Puffin's attention without being seen by the Nordics?_ Iceland asked the voice in his head.

_I thought this was supposed to be your mission,_ Laki replied. _What? Too much of a baby to deal with one kidnapping?_

_Fine,_ Iceland thought. _I'll do it on my own._

He snuck carefully inside the room and hid behind a grandfather clock. He made sure to be especially alert to Åland's movements. The boy was growing restless already – apparently kidnapping people and interrogating them proved to be not as exciting as he had hoped – and Iceland predicted that sooner or later the boy's attention would wander away from the two prisoners. He needed to act quickly. But what could he do?

There was only one thing he could do to get close enough to his companions to form an escape plan with them. And that was to simply go to them. Iceland snuck back out of the living room, found a paper and pencil in the kitchen, scribbled down some notes and then returned to the living room. As casually as if he wasn't a prisoner, Iceland walked across the room and sat on the sofa. It took his fellow Nordics a couple of seconds to realize that he wasn't supposed to be there.

"Why aren't you in your room?" Norway asked like a stern mother. "I thought you were told to stay there."

"I got bored," Iceland replied in his usual, cold fashion and leaned back in the sofa. He pretended to stifle a yawn. "I also wanted to be with my friends."

Norway raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

"Dude," Denmark said. "Not cool. Go up to your room, now. We…"

"Let him," Sweden said. "He might be helpful."

"Is Lauren clean?" Finland asked, ever the practical. "Can we let her go?"

Iceland and Lauren exchanged looks. Behind Mr. Puffin's back, Iceland slipped her the note he had written for her before giving Mr. Puffin one as well.

"She is. We just met her at the airport by coincidence. She knows nothing more than you guys have told her with your reckless behaviour." Iceland even dared to eye his fellow Nordics judgingly. Some of them shuffled around awkwardly. Iceland glanced over to Lauren. She was looking down, pretending to be shy and sullen while she tried to read the note Iceland had slipped her. Mr. Puffin was trying the same. Iceland needed to create a diversion so that the two could read their notes.

_I guess a sacrifice is in order,_ Iceland thought. He mentally sighed before fixing his gaze on his brother. Norway stared back, locking their eyes in a silent battle. It only took a few seconds for Norway to notice that something was off about Iceland's eyes. Norway's irises widened a little bit – his version of a severe shock.

"Brother," he said in Norwegian – probably so that Lauren would not understand. Finally Iceland's family showed _some_ caution around the human girl. "What's happened to your eyes?"

The other Nordics immediately turned to stare at Iceland.

"Cool!" Åland yelled in Swedish and ran right in front of Iceland, blocking the view to anyone else. "Your eyes are purple! How did you do that? Can I get purple eyes as well?"

Finland grabbed the young boy and dragged him away from his uncle. The Finn gave Iceland a worried look as he placed his charge in a safe distance from the sofa.

"Ice?" Denmark said in his native Danish. "Is there something we need to know?"

Iceland shook his head. He was tempted to speak his mother tongue as well, but since the other Nordics had long since forgotten how to speak their former common tongue, he opted for Danish instead. That choice of language made Denmark smile satisfactory for a second before his worried look returned.

"It's nothing serious," he reassured his fellow Nordics. "This just happened the day I got independent." The mere mention of Iceland's independence caused Denmark to frown. "My eyes hurt for a while, and when they stopped hurting, they were purple. This has nothing to do with my… condition."

He could see his family breathe lighter.

"That's strange…" Norway said. "I've never heard of such a drastic physical change taking place in a Nation before… I'll need to look this up."

"I would have told you earlier," Iceland said. "But I didn't want to worry you needlessly. This doesn't affect anything. Seriously." _Although I wonder what you guys would say about the voice in my head… _Iceland added in his mind. Laki chuckled. Iceland promptly ignored him.

Iceland glanced again at his companions. Both of them nodded discreetly at him, signalling that they had understood his message. Iceland nodded back. _Let's do this._

Suddenly, Lauren stood up from the sofa, tugged at her shorts and started bawling her eyes out. All the Nordics looked at her in shock.

"I want my mama!" Lauren cried between her – entirely fake – sobs.

Finland immediately rushed to her side and started stroking her back comfortingly.

"There-there, darling. Don't you cry. We'll let you go soon enough. You'll be safe and sound in your hotel before you know it. We're practically finished anyway…" Finland looked to Denmark for confirmation. The tall Dane nodded, stupefied. Apparently he wasn't used to girls spontaneously bursting into tears in his presence.

"Will you guys just… let her go?" Iceland said in an irritated voice. "She's only 15 and you guys are holding her here against her will, surrounded by only burly men and two little boys…"

"_Two _little boys?" Finland asked. "I don't see…" He then realized that Iceland had been talking about him. "Hey, that's not nice. I'm a proper grown up! And I wouldn't exactly call you _burly_…"

Iceland shrugged. He looked at the still crying Lauren.

"Just look at her. She's terrified. Please, just let her go already."

Denmark ruffled the hair on the back of his head awkwardly.

"Oh man," he said. "We never intended to… Here," he said to Lauren. "I'll drive you to your hotel. Right this instant. How would you like that? We can even take Fin and Ål with us to keep you company…"

Lauren stopped crying suspiciously soon and nodded at Denmark. She was innocence incarnated, with large shimmering drops of tears hanging from her dark eyelashes.

"I'd like that very much, sir," she said. "Can I say goodbye to my friends first?"

Denmark nodded.

"Of course," he said. "I'll go warm up the car."

Iceland and Mr. Puffin stood up and hugged Lauren goodbye. Iceland used the opportunity to whisper his thanks to her, and to remind her about the second part of their plan. She nodded fervently.

"I'd like to give you something," she said and reached for her backpack. From the inside, she pulled a jar that seemed to be filled with shining jewels. She handed the jar to Iceland. "It's a jar of Goddess tears. They help heal any wound… I got it from a salesman in your country and was going to take it back home with me, but I figure that you might need it more than me."

Iceland turned the jar in his hands. _That is a little strange gift,_ he thought, _but a very nice one._ Suddenly, he felt very sentimental. He wanted to give something to the poor unlucky girl in return. After all, it was his fault that she had gotten kidnapped and maybe even locked out of her hotel. Iceland undid his ribbon, pulled it from around his neck and handed it to her.

"I know it's not much," he said. "But here's something to remind you of me and this bothersome adventure."

Lauren flashed him a bright smile. She brought the ribbon up to her chin.

"It's warm," she said. "Thank you."

Iceland shook his head.

"No," he said. "Thank you." Without giving anyone much time to react, Iceland pushed Lauren into Sweden's arms, grabbed Mr. Puffin and ran out of the house. The big, strong Mr. Puffin pulled a stunned Denmark out of the driver's seat of his car and scooted into the passenger seat so that Iceland could sit at the wheel. With no time to spare, Iceland stepped on the gas and sped away to freedom. He could see Denmark just sitting in the snow with a dumb look on his face in the side mirror. Iceland smiled. This had gone better than he had hoped.

"How nice of that Dane to heat the car for us," he said to Mr. Puffin. Iceland chuckled at his own joke. Mr. Puffin didn't react. "You've been strangely quiet ever since we left Iceland," Iceland said. "Are you nervous?"

Mr. Puffin huffed.

"Nervous? Me?" he said and folded his arms. "Never."

"What's your deal then?" Iceland said. He shifted gears as he entered the main road in the direction he hoped would lead him to the downtown area. The road was wet with melted snow and only sparsely lit. It seemed that the city of London was still awaiting extensive rebuilds after the war. Iceland tried his best to drive safely and converse with his partner at the same time – what luck that he was such an excellent driver, and in such an excellent mood.

"I'm just…" Mr. Puffin said, "a little baffled about all this. I mean, why are we going to this meeting anyway? You know it will be full moon tomorrow night. This could get dangerous. And now we're using this poor girl to our advantage… It just doesn't feel right."

Iceland snorted.

"You're such a prude," he said. "Lauren won't be harmed. She'll stay with the Nordics for tonight and Sweden will probably deal with her hotel tomorrow. If I know him right, he'll probably get her upgraded to a better room or something…"

"I'm not talking about that," Mr. Puffin said. Iceland had the feeling that the former-puffin was staring at him, but he couldn't see it because of the sunglasses. "You are lying to your family and putting everyone at risk. And for what? Could you explain that to me?"

Iceland sighed. He had hoped that Mr. Puffin's loud and arrogant personality made him welcome adventures, but apparently not. The poor guy had probably been spending too much time with Fae – or he was just naturally reserved when it came to going against authority.

"I have a valid reason," Iceland said. "A very important one."

Mr. Puffin looked sternly over his sunglasses at Iceland.

"Go on," he said.

Iceland nodded. It was time he told his plan, or at least some of his plan, to his partner in crime. After all, as soon as Iceland started negotiating with the other nations, Mr. Puffin would be able to put two and two together and realize his plan. It was better Iceland told him now and soothed his anger than to have to drag a pissed off former-puffin around all of London on a cold winter's night.

"I'm going to talk to some of the Nations before the meeting, and the rest during the meeting itself," Iceland explained. "I need them to join me in my battle against my curse… _Our _curse. I think… I hope, that if we can take Titania down, this blasted curse will be lifted."

Mr. Puffin unfolded his arms.

"You should have told me this sooner," he said. "I would have been much more cooperative had I know that you were attempting to get rid of the curse. I want that too, you know."

Iceland winced at the accusation in his best friend's voice.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I guess I'm getting too used to keeping secrets."

Mr. Puffin shook his head.

"That's a dangerous sport," he said. He combed his greased hair with his fingers and removed his sunglasses. There was affection in his black eyes. "You are my best friend and master," Mr. Puffin said. He laid a hand on Iceland's shoulder. "We share the same home, the same family and the same curse. You can tell me anything. Especially when it comes to something like this, something that has to do with both of us. You should know that."

Iceland patted Mr. Puffin's hand on his shoulder and smiled briefly before focusing again on the driving. They were getting closer to the centre of the city. Already, the streets were better lit and seemed to have been fixed with more care.

"I know," Iceland said. "You are also my best friend."

_And possibly a spy of the elven queen,_ Iceland added in his mind. _As much as I would like to see an ally in you and to share with you all my burdens – I can't. I'm afraid that you will stab me in the back as soon as you're able._

Iceland hoped he was wrong about this, but he had no way to tell. Until Mr. Puffin would prove his loyalty, Iceland would have to keep being careful about what information he gave his friend – and even to feed him false information to spill to Titania.

_You are such a good friend,_ Laki snorted in his mind. _Not._

Iceland bit his lip. He decided to ignore the accusation, despite the knot of guilt that was forming in his guts.

"So…" Mr. Puffin said and put his sunglasses back on. "Where are we headed now?"

"To England's house," Iceland said. "He's the nation holding this meeting. He probably knows where the other nations are staying."

"Will he be our first ally?" Mr. Puffin asked.

Iceland shrugged.

"I hope so," he said. "I really, really hope so."

* * *

_**Author's comments:**__ So… Guess where we are headed? It's England's home guys! Hehe. So, he'll be the first nation of your voted ones to appear in the story, both because the meeting is held at his place and because he's currently in the lead of your vote! Just to prove it to you guys, here's the current score:_

_England has _five_ votes; Japan _four_; Russia, Germany, Latvia, Scotland, Wales, Ireland, South Italy and Prussia all have _two_ votes and France, Estonia, Romania, Poland, North Italy and Sealand all have _one_ vote each._

_Just to clarify guys, the voted nations will all appear in the story, but it will range from just a mention to a major plot character depending on their scores. For instance, based on the current score, England would be a major key character while Sealand would only appear as a background character. _

_If you guys would like to push your favourites up the scale, remember to vote! You have time until I post the next chapter (which will possibly be next weekend, possibly later because of finals) but after that I'm closing the shop. You will still be free to request background characters, but the main cast of this story will be decided. I might also take the liberty of adding key characters from the group as I see fit (upgrading – but I will never downgrade characters. If you guys want them as key characters, then they shall be key characters). Also, even if you have voted before you can still vote again, just not for the same characters!_


	12. No Rest for the British

_**Story:**__ Spellbound_

_**Author:**__ ShrapnelGirl_

_**Exclaimer:**__ All Hetalia characters belong to Hidekaz Himaruya._

_**Author's comments:**__ Here's the eleventh chapter of Spellbound. You must forgive me for the long unscheduled pause. It seems that finals drained me more than I had anticipated. We are, hopefully, back on schedule now._

_Just to be clear – my portrayal of the British Isles is in no way supposed to be political or anything. It's all just fun and games, so don't be mad if you don´t like it. But since those guys will appear again in this story, feel free to give me ideas for their personas and accents and stuff. I know shamefully little about the British Isles – everything I state in this story, from their looks and on to their relationship, are things I learned from researching their stereotypes on the internet._

_That being said, please enjoy the chapter!_

* * *

_Chapter 11 – No Rest for the British – London, winter of 1946_

Snow fell lazily from the dark sky as Iceland and Mr. Puffin finally found their way to England's house. Since Iceland had only been there a couple of times it took him a while to remember the route from the city-centre of London – he was actually rather surprised that he managed to find the place in the end. It was a peaceful old mansion in the outskirts of the city, half hidden by vines and trees and scarred from the bombings of the war.

The last time Iceland was in England's house was during a time in his life that historians had dubbed the 'English century' due to England's influences on the small nation. Iceland had only been a teenager back then: overworked, malnourished and weak from natural disasters and poverty. Denmark had been too busy or too careless at the time to pay much attention to his colony. Food was direly needed, as were medication and wood. Those that could not afford wood to make frames for their turf houses lived in dark, cold holes they had dug into small hills or into the ground. Everyone was miserable. Out of desperation, Iceland sought out a person he could vaguely remember from his childhood.

Just a few years earlier, England had discovered the fertile seas around Iceland and started fishing there. Iceland got a ride with a British fishing boat and went to meet the British nation in complete and utter defiance to Denmark's wishes. He had been so afraid: Afraid to be rejected by England and thus dooming his people to further misery, afraid of Denmark's reaction when he heard of his colony's actions and afraid of the coming full moon.

Iceland had wanted to return to his cursed island many times – but he had braved his fears for the sake of his people. England had received the young colony at his own home, listening to Iceland's proposal attentively. Despite the air of arrogance and disdainfulness that surrounded the British Empire, a trade was established between the two nations that would thrive for a hundred years. That trade would not be abolished until English influence in Iceland had gotten strong enough for Denmark to start fearing it – as a countermeasure, Denmark brought Iceland with him to Germany to start a trade with Hanse merchants, thus starting a dispute that would also last a century.

Iceland recalled England's home to have been dark and full of heavy wooden furniture and tapestry, and smelling of musk. He had never felt fully welcome in the mansion. More often than not, Iceland had been accommodated in diverse apartments in the centre of London rather than in England´s own home. The rooms of that place were reserved for more important guests – empires and kingdoms, not colonies. Iceland wondered if England's attitude had changed at all with the passing of years.

Probably not.

Despite it being the middle of the night, England's mansion was full of life. Several cars were parked in front of the place, almost every window was lit and from inside the house, Iceland could hear the loud arguing of several voices, mixed in with what he could only describe as angelic singing.

_What in the world is going on here?_ he thought. Iceland had expected to find England sleeping, and that he would have had to wake the nation up. He was thankful, albeit a little taken aback, that that was not the case. Irritating England before Iceland could even make his plea would have been unfortunate.

"Do we crash the party?" Mr. Puffin asked.

Iceland didn't answer, but rang the doorbell instead. The talking from inside the house stopped abruptly. Someone shouted something. The argument resumed. Iceland wondered if someone would answer the door, or if the assembly had decided to ignore the visitors. He already had his finger on the electrical buzzer, ready to ring the doorbell again, when the door opened.

Standing in front of them was a young boy with hair dark as night, freckles aligned into star signs and two radiant blue moons for eyes. He bared his teeth, letting out a feral growl. Iceland spotted a metal pin between the boy's teeth – and a grenade in his hand. The boy handed the grenade to Iceland– out of sheer lack of thought, Iceland took it. He only realized what had happened when the boy slammed the door in his face.

He had an active grenade in his hands. It could explode any second.

"AAAHHH!"

With all his strength, Iceland threw the grenade and ducked. A loud explosion shook the very foundation of England's mansion. _That's weird, grenades are not supposed to be that powerful._ Looking behind him, Iceland saw that he had thrown the grenade into the parking lot, effectively exploding all the cars there, including the one he had stolen from Denmark. _There goes our ride… And any chance of goodwill from England._

"What was that?" Mr. Puffin squawked, petrified.

"I agree, what in the world was that?" someone else said. The door had opened again, this time a man taller than even Mr. Puffin stood in the door, glaring at the strangers. He had red hair and beard, a scar across his left eye and thick, furry eyebrows.

Iceland recognized him immediately.

"Scotland!" he exclaimed. "It wasn't me, I swear it! It was that boy – the boy with the hand grenade."

Scotland cursed.

"So t'was Northern Ireland, was it?" he said. "That homunculus has finally gone too far." Without a further explanation, Scotland turned in the door and headed back into the house, screaming: "TUA! C'mere this instant!"

Iceland and Mr. Puffin exchanged glances.

"Did he just say… Homunculus?" Mr. Puffin asked.

Iceland nodded.

"Something is very much off in this household," he said. There had been no grenade-throwing homunculus living in England's mansion back when Iceland last paid a visit. "Let's go inside."

Closing the door, Iceland and Mr. Puffin carefully made their way into England's mansion, following the sound of screams and curses.

"What did he do now?" England's voice could be heard yelling.

"The little brat blew up all our cars," Scotland said. "And scared the guests half to death."

Loud cursing could be heard – the angelic singing even took on a slightly darker melody.

"Where is he?" England said. "Where's he hiding now?"

"I dunno. I lost 'im," Scotland said.

Iceland and Mr. Puffin had reached the living room, the place where it seemed every member of the British Isles had gathered. Carefully, Iceland peeked inside the room. And giggled.

Mr. Puffin sent him a weird look, but Iceland ignored it.

Sitting by a small table, England was arm-wrestling with his older sister – and losing big time. He could as well have been arm-wrestling Scotland, except Ireland was not as hairy, not as scarred and was grinning victoriously whereas Scotland had thrown himself on a sofa and put a bottle to his lips. From a corner of the room, sitting on a stack of books, Wales was playing his welsh triple harp and singing angelically in a language Iceland neither knew the head nor tail of.

_I should have remembered,_ Iceland thought. _Wales is always singing._

"Victory!" Ireland yelled after she slammed Englands hand painfully into the table. "Five hundred out of five hundred! Now, dissolve that abomination right this instant!"

England rubbed his sore arm with a sad look on his face.

"But, he's my masterpiece," he whined. "He's the only homunculus I managed to bring to life."

Ireland sent her brother a furious gaze.

"After sneaking into MY room and cutting off all of MY hair to create the thing, I'd say he belongs more to me than you."

England frowned.

"I gathered the ingredient AND worked the magic AND named the boy. He's clearly mine."

"Gathered the ingredients?" Ireland scoffed. "You STOLE my HAIR!"

"It's grown back!" England tried to defend himself.

"Oh boy," Scotland said, taking a huge swig from his bottle. "There they go again."

"You said you'd do something about him if I won at arm-wrestling five hundred times!" Ireland screamed. She was working up quite a temper – but then again, when wasn't she? Iceland instinctively backed away. He knew from experience that an angry Ireland could be more dangerous than all the demons of hell combined.

England shrugged. It seemed that Ireland's temper-tantrums didn't scare him so much anymore.

"I didn't say I'd dissolve him," he said, grinning. "But I'll definitely be disciplining him. If I can find him, that is." Furrowing his brows, England started looking around the room – and spotted the uninvited visitors. "Oh," he said. "Scotland, why didn't you say we had visitors?"

"I did," Scotland said, yawning. "You just weren't listening."

Iceland felt it was time to introduce himself. He gave Mr. Puffin a sign to follow him into the living room.

"Hello everyone," he said, raising a hand for greeting. "I'm sorry for disturbing you so late at night but…"

"And who might you be?" England said, scanning the visitor. Iceland felt uneasy at the scrutiny – and for a good reason. England didn't have normal sight. He could see things that were hidden from others. Right now, he furrowed his mighty brows and hummed curiously. "Interesting," he muttered.

"Stop being such a pervert," Scotland said. "The boy looks half your age."

"You're the pervert!" England half-screamed, turning instantly red. "I was just trying to remember if I had met this boy before."

_Yeah right,_ Iceland thought. _You were scanning me and Mr. Puffin for hostile magic._

"I'm sorry," Iceland said, stepping in before England's and Scotland's little banter escalated into a full blown argument. "I'm Iceland, and this here is my butler, Herra Lundi. We last met, Mr. England, in the 16th century."

England scratched his chin, as if trying to remember. Recognition flashed in his eyes.

"Ah yes," he said. "Iceland, the colony who came begging for my help?" He smiled. "Too bad about Denmark interfering. You have such nice fishing waters... Are you here to propose another trade agreement?"

Iceland shook his head.

"No," he said. "I have nothing to sell. And I'm not a colony any more. I'm an independent nation. And… I might need your help."

England's smile dimmed. He seemed to have already lost interest in his visitor.

"You're quite small," he remarked. "How big is your population?"

Iceland clenched his jaw.

"One hundred thirty four," he said reluctantly.

England raised a brow.

"Millions?"

"No. Thousand," Iceland said, lowering his gaze a little. _Why does it always come down to size?_ he thought. He wasn't a colony any more – but he was hardly a nation worth anyone's time either. And right now he felt that more than ever.

England's laughter rang throughout the mansion.

"A hundred thirty four thousand! That's the population of a town, not a country," he mocked. "And you come here, begging for my help, yet you claim to have nothing to give me in return? Tell me boy, did your brain freeze in a snowstorm or something? Do you have any idea how the world works? You must give something to gain something." England's laughter died. He looked serious now. "Now tell me lad," he said. "What do you have to give? And is it enough for me to bother helping you?"

_Answer the man,_ Laki said in Iceland's head. He must have been awoken by the surge of humiliation Iceland felt that moment.

_I have nothing,_ Iceland thought. _My people need all they have._

_Then offer yourself,_ Laki said and disappeared.

"I'm waiting," England sing-songed and crossed his arms. Scotland yawned. He seemed to be used to watching his brother bully smaller nations.

_Think of something,_ Iceland thought frantically. _There must be something. Why didn't I prepare? I should have known he'd demand something in return…_

There was one thing. England… was pretty damn curious when it came to magic. And there was one thing Icelandic magic could do better than English magic. It was risky, but worth a shot.

"I challenge you to a magic competition," Iceland said. "The first one to raise the dead gets to demand one thing from the other."

England raised a brow. A smirk spread over his lips.

"You challenge me? In a magic competition?" He laughed. Ireland, who had drawn back into Wales´ corner and was now angrily playing his harp, looked up with mockery in her eyes. Scotland almost choked on his alcohol.

"Say what?" he coughed.

Iceland put on his indifferent mask. With cold, hard eyes, he eyed each nation of the British Isles and repeated slowly. "I challenge England to a competition of raising the dead."

No one joked. No one laughed. This was dead serious.

* * *

"Listen carefully now," England said, brandishing an old wand. "The first one to raise the dead guy to life wins. But the dead 'un must be able to talk, answer questions logically and be perfectly under control. If he starts trying to gobble anyone's brains out, the one who raised him has lost. Do you understand?"

Iceland nodded. Saying that he felt uncomfortable would be an understatement. It was mighty cold in England's cellar, as well as dark. The dead body lying in an open coffin in the middle of the floor, in what looked like a magic circle of some sort, didn't help make Iceland comfortable either. And just to make everything ten times creepier, England had instructed his siblings, Mr. Puffin _and_ the insufferable little homunculus guy to take positions among the walls, wearing black cloaks that covered their faces and constantly humming something _demonic._ Each of them had burning candles in their hands, lighting the tips of their noses.

"Are you ready?" England asked. Just like the chanting spectators, he was wearing a black cloak.

Iceland gulped.

"Let's start," he said.

Immediately, England pulled out a large cauldron and jars full of strange things – some even seemed alive – and lighted a fire. He began to expertly mix something in the cauldron, chanting like he was possessed. Iceland lost a few minutes watching the spectacle. English magic sure was weird.

_Iceland… Do you want to lose?_ Laki said in his head. _Snap out of it. We have a mission to complete here._

Iceland tore his eyes from the now maniacally cackling Englander and focused instead on the coffin with the dead body. He smirked. This competition was as good as won.

Not that England's magic wasn´t way stronger than Iceland's, or that Iceland could have won at any other magical task. You couldn't do half the stuff England was capable off with Icelandic magic – it was usually reserved for stealing from your neighbours or making your enemies constantly hiccup and fart. Menial things like turning invisible or growing a beard took months of planning, perfect timing and good knowledge of magical runes. About the only thing that was easy in Icelandic magic had to do with the dead: Asking them questions about passed on family members, having them haunt a place to annoy others and raising them from the dead.

After all, Icelanders were _obsessed_ with their ancestors. Of course they had found a way to keep in contact with them easily even after death.

Focusing all of his energy on the dead body in the coffin, Iceland began to recite a poem. In fact, it was a poem written by himself, for his dearest Fae on her birthday. The good thing about raising the dead was that you could use any poem to do it, as long as it contained the words _God_, _death_ and _spoon_ in it. Why the spoon was necessary, no one knew.

Alas! The body began to stir. Iceland could not discern if it was by his doing or England's. Reciting his poem even faster, Iceland moved closer to the stiff, stopping right next to the coffin. He was almost at the end of his poem. Hopefully, the poem was long enough to finish the job.

Iceland spoke the last word while watching the dead one intently. Was he woken? And if he was, would Iceland be in control of him, or England, or neither? The spectators along the wall stopped chanting and watched in silence.

The dead opened his eyes. Rubbing the back of his neck and rolling his shoulders, he sat up, groaning loudly.

"Who dares wake me from my sleep?" he asked, voice dim and haunting.

England stopped stirring the badly smelling potion in his cauldron and stared.

"How… So fast…" was all he managed to say. It didn't seem to be him who had woken the stiff.

The dead guy let his cold eyes wander around the dark cellar. His eyes landed on Iceland.

"Master," he said. "Why have you raised me?"

A wave of relief washed over Iceland. It had worked. It had actually worked! _That's Icelandic familial obsession for you,_ Iceland cheered in his mind. _And a thousand years worth of Gunnar son of Óðin son of Hafsteinn son of Þór hinn þrútni son of…_

"What were your name and occupation when you were alive?" Iceland asked. He was curious to know whose body England had kept in his cellar.

The dead guy thought for a bit. He seemed drowsy.

"Sherlock… Holmes," he finally said. "Consulting detective Sherlock Holmes." He stared at his hands. "I seem to be dead. And you are?"

"The entire population of Iceland," Iceland answered. "I'm a personification. Unpaid. And yes, you are quite dead. Or rather, undead."

Sherlock Holmes scratched his head. He seemed to be getting his undead brain in gear.

"What century is this?" he asked.

"The 20th," Iceland answered.

"Interesting," said Mr. Holmes. He made no attempt to leave his coffin. Instead, he lay back down on his pillow. "20th century…" he mused. "This really is a strange dream. Maybe I should have lain off the opium last evening…"

Iceland would have wanted to interrogate his first undead further, but he could feel his power draining. In only a few minutes, Sherlock Holmes would remember nothing of his past life and get an incurable hunger for brains.

"He's answered questions logically," Iceland said loud enough for all to hear. "He is under control and has been properly raised. Can I send him back now? Or do you want undead Mr. Sherlock Holmes to be further confused?"

The cloaked spectators along the wall nodded.

"That's enough," Scotland said. "This is creeping me right out! Send him back."

"You've lost, England," Mr. Puffin said, his voice full of pride. "My Iceland has beaten you fair and square."

"No!" cried the homunculus. He ripped the cloak from around him and stepped closer to the undead. "Let's keep him. I want to keep him!"

Seeing young Tua so close to the undead seemed to wake England from his trance. With a snap of his fingers, the fire under his cauldron died. Sighing with defeat, England threw back the hood of his cloak and pocketed his wand.

"Very well," he said. "You've won, Iceland. Now return the dead to the afterlife."

_Whew,_ Iceland thought. _That went better than expected._ Now all he needed to do was to recite the poem backwards and the dead would sleep again.

* * *

Ireland decided to brew them all some delicious tea to calm everyone down after the competition. Wales, who had been forbidden from bringing his harp into the kitchen, hummed quietly in his chair and tried to ignore young Tua who kept trying to snatch a lock of his curly, black hair.

"You look like a black sheep, Whines," Tua said.

"I'm Wales," Wales said, not missing a single beat of his humming.

"Your singing sucks," Tua said then.

"I'm humming, not singing," Wales said. He tried to push the homunculus away, but young Tua went nowhere.

"Then your humming sucks."

"Tua!" Ireland scolded. "Stop bothering Wales. Remember what happens if you manage to make him mad? There will be bloodbath in the kitchen, and even louder singing afterwards."

Tua grinned. What Ireland had just described was probably what he had been hoping for. Before he had a chance to ask Wales another annoying question, Scotland picked the little rascal up and raised him in the air.

"Who wants to fly?" he asked teasingly. "Fly higher and higher?" He threw Tua up in the air and caught him again. Tua screamed.

"Let me down! Let me down! I HATE hights!"

Scotland laughed. He threw a screaming Tua back in the air again.

"Is it always so loud in your house?" Iceland asked England. England sat between him and Mr. Puffin at the kitchen table. He had his hands around his head, looking dejected.

"Only when Ireland's over for a visit," he said, sighing. "And she's been coming over more often now since Tua… Since I made Northern Ireland. She's always loud and yelling and demanding that Northern Ireland be dissolved so she can have custody over her hair again."

"Sounds difficult," Iceland said.

"Sounds like his own damn fault," Mr. Puffin said. "You don't just go and steal other people's hair like that."

England growled, but didn't comment on that.

"So you've won me in a fair competition," he said. "I am a man of my word. You may demand my help now. What is it you boys came here to ask me?"

Iceland and Mr. Puffin looked at each other.

"We need you as our ally in our fight against a mighty elven queen," Iceland said straight out. Behind him, rolling out dough for some kind of pastry, Ireland gasped.

"An elf? How in the world did you manage to anger an elf?" she exclaimed.

"That's some serious stuff, right there," Scotland said. He had finally stopped throwing Tua into the air, instead the held the young rascal by the heels and seemed to be attempting to mop the floor with his hair. Tua giggled uncontrollably.

"It's a long story," Iceland said. _A long and emotional one_. Looking England directly into the eyes, Iceland made clear that what he had to say was serious. "That elf is very powerful. I need the help of every nation I can get on my side – and since my side doesn't have much to offer, that means I need every nation _you_ can get on _your _side. It would be best if we could talk to the nations individually before the night is over. I estimate that they will not be in the mood to hear us out after the meeting tomorrow."

England hummed.

"You want to talk to the nations tonight?" he said. "With my help?"

Iceland nodded.

"I'm afraid that won't be possible," England said. "I don't know where the other nations are staying."

Iceland´s heart sank.

"You don't? But, you're the nation hosting the meeting! Aren't you supposed to know where everyone is staying as a security measure?"

England shook his head.

"_This _is a security measure," he said. "It's the first official meeting between national personifications since the second world war started – and I took part in that war, you know. And won it. Having me knowing where everyone is sleeping would make some nations very uneasy, and others right out paranoid. Most of them only agreed to come under the condition that they be allowed to choose their own accommodation _in secret_."

A string of curses went through Iceland's mind. All of them pertaining in some way to hell and demons.

"Don't you have any idea? Not even where your allies are staying?"

"I wish I did," England said. "But I'm completely clueless."

"How about magic?" Wales offered. Iceland startled slightly. He hadn't even known that Wales was following the conversations. That guy always looked lost in his own world.

"Magic won't work," England replied. "I've tried that." At the accusative looks from his family he added: "What? I just wanted to make sure that pervert France was nowhere near my house." That explanation seemed to gain the acceptance of everyone.

"Good job," Scotland commented. "I don't want 'im turnin' up in my bed again." At the mere thought, Scotland got the shivers.

"So," Iceland said. "Magic won't work. None of you know where anyone is and the night is almost at an end. That's our situation?"

Everyone nodded. Even Tua, who was upside down, struggling to get out of Scotland's grip. Mr. Puffin put a hand on Iceland's coulder.

"I'm sorry buddy," he said. "It's impossible."

_So it seems,_ Iceland thought. Should he risk trying to talk to everyone at the meeting tomorrow? To get England to arrange for Iceland to get a spot somewhere on the agenda, to let him give a speech where he publically showed his weakness to everyone? Friend and foe? _There must be a better way. _A way to find someone who didn't want to be found in a city like London. _I have all those allies…_

Iceland looked around him, at the nations of the British Isles, at his friend Mr. Puffin. And he had an idea. It was a crazy idea but it just. Might. Work.

"I know a way to find at least some of the nations," he said, standing up. "And all I need from you, England, is a loaf of bread and your backyard."

* * *

"This is madness," Scotland said when the nations, along with one enchanted puffin and a homunculus, had gathered in the backyard with one loaf of bread between them.

"Yes it is," Iceland said. "But we are desperate." He handed the breadloaf to England. "Can you multiply this? We need more if we don't want to be picked to death by an angry mob."

England grabbed his wand and swung it around. Immediately, a pile of breadloafs appeared at Iceland's feet.

"What are we going to do?" Tua asked, curious.

Iceland smirked.

"_We_ are not going to do anything," he said. "Herra Lundi is going to be doing most of the work."

"Me?" Mr. Puffin said. "What can _I _do? I thought we were trying to find the other nations…"

"We are," Iceland said. "Using your ability to talk to birds."

This seemed to grab the attention of England and his siblings.

"You can talk to birds?" Ireland asked. "Like a Disney princess?"

Mr. Puffin scoffed.

"I'm no princess," he said, offended. "Talking to birds is cool!"

"Of course it is," Iceland said. "Now here's what you're going to tell them: We are offering enough bread to last one bird a week. Every bird that can bring us clues that will help us in our search gets a loaf for himself. You feed the birds information about the names, looks and any other details about the nations we seek. Do you understand?"

Mr. Puffin nodded.

"I do."

"Then let's start!"

By spreading some breadcrumbs and hiding away in a bush, they managed to attract the first bird. Mr. Puffin squawked something at it, then it flew away. The nations only had to wait fifteen minutes before information started raining in. Most of it was useless, but then a plump owl landed in the garden, and judging by how long it spoke with Mr. Puffin, it had quite a story to tell.

"According to this owl here," Mr. Puffin said when the conversation ended, "America is staying at an apartment downtown. There are four other nations with him: One with a big nose and a pink scarf that keeps saying kolkolkol; one is blond, with glasses and a polar bear and keeps saying he's Canada; one keeps being addressed to as an albino and the other one is very silent, with blond hair and speaks like those annoying doves from Germany that kept trying to assassinate British doves during the world war."

The nations were silent. Those descriptions… They did not bode well.

"America, Russia, Germany, Canada and Prussia are all staying together?" The horror in England's voice was evident to and understood by everyone present. "What in the world are they doing? America and Russia in the same room? With Germany and Prussia there? That is _not good_. In fact, that sounds highly explosive. We'd better get there right away, boy."

Iceland nodded. He didn't really care that much about who was most likely to kill who – all of those nations staying together was good since that meant Iceland could talk to all of them. It was also bad, since it would be harder to find a chance to talk to them under four eyes.

"I will need your help," Iceland said, "to talk to each of them separately. Do you think you could prove a distraction for me?"

England grinned.

"Sure I can! Just let me get my Little Book of Annoying Magic Spells."

"But… How do we get there?" Mr. Puffin asked, pointing towards the parking lot where the scorched carcasses of all their cars lay scattered in the snow.

"We fly," England said. "On brooms."

Iceland raised a brow.

"Fly? On brooms? Won't we be noticed?" he asked.

"I'll make us invisible," England answered, as if it was the most logical thing in the world. That having been said, the small group started moving back inside to prepare the magical flying brooms and invisibility potions. In the garden, the plump owl hooted happily as it chowed down on its own private pile of breadloafs.

* * *

_**Author's comments:**__ So… Undead Sherlock Holmes, huh. Was anyone expecting that? Wait, does that mean this story is a crossover now?_

_The 15__th__ Century in Iceland is often called the English century due to extensive trades with England during that time. English influence grew to such extent that Christian I of Denmark invited German tradesmen, including the Hanse, to the country to take over as the main trading partners of Iceland. For an entire century, the so-called German century, English and German traders fought each other for dominance of the Icelandic market. The Germans won, but left soon after when Denmark forced Iceland into a trade monopoly specifically to undermine the Hanse trade in Iceland. - This has been your historical titbit for today ;)._

_And yes, Northern Ireland is indeed a homunculus made in one of England's magic experiments out of Ireland's hair. The reason is that Northern Ireland is sometimes referred to as a county, sometimes as a country… I didn't want to get mixed in with politics, so that's why I decided to go the funny route XD. Scotland and Ireland call the little rascal Tua, because Northern Ireland in Scottisch Gaelic is 'Èirinn a Tuath' and in Irish it's 'Tuaisceart Éireann'. Since both names have Tua-something in them, I thought Tua would be a cute nickname (but I have no idea if 'tua' means something in those languages…)._

_Oh, and that thing about Icelandic magic being better at raising the dead than English magic is something I just invented to fit the story. I got the idea from an Icelandic legend about a mighty wizard who casually raised dead people for laughs, and one time when he was showing off to friends, an old dead woman killed him._

_Anyway. The voting for characters to join our little story here has now officially ended! (Europe, stop voting now! – Sorry… I couldn't resist :Þ). The main characters are the following: England with a staggering 5 votes, and Japan close behind with 4 votes. Characters appearing frequently are: Scotland with 3 votes and South Italy also with 3 votes. Other characters, all with 2 votes, are: Russia, Germany, Latvia, Wales, Ireland and Prussia – and our background characters with only one vote each are: France, Estonia, Romania, Poland, North Italy, Sealand and Canada._

_Thank you all for taking part! The course of my story is mostly set now, although you can still voice your ideas and wishes. I have a certain plot in mind and an ending, so hopefully this story will be a bit less random in the upcoming chapters. I estimate… many more chapters to come for this story. I have no idea how long it will become :Þ. _

_Next chapter coming soon!_


	13. Everyone Knows If Three Know

_**Story:**__ Spellbound_

_**Author:**__ ShrapnelGirl_

_**Exclaimer:**__ All Hetalia characters belong to Hidekaz Himaruya._

_**Author's comments:**__ Here's the twelfth chapter of Spellbound. You must excuse me for not updating for so long. A lot of things have happened in my life and I only have little time for writing. As a little hint of how much is going on in my life, I am now updating from the beautiful city of Berlin where I will stay this whole month. I estimate that updates will be highly irregular for the rest of the summer, but hopefully I will start updating every week again when I return to my winter routine._

_Don't worry, this story is not being dropped. Just slowed down ;). I hope you stay with me even though there might be some time between updates for the next couple of months and that you continue to enjoy this story!_

* * *

_Chapter 12 – __Everyone Knows If Three Know__ – London, winter of 1946_

In clear contrast to England's house, the apartment America, Russia, Canada, Prussia and Germany were staying at was eerily quiet. England ascended soundlessly on his broom, steering it to an expert halt right outside the balcony door. Iceland was not as smooth. Already, he was getting sore from clinging to the broom with all his might – he would have closed his eyes if he wasn't the one steering the thing – and for the last ten minutes just the thought of having to land had made Iceland sick to the pit of his stomach.

And now was the much dreaded time.

Iceland drew a deep breath before pushing the handle of his broom slightly forward in hopes that would lower its flight. To his horror, that made the broom fly faster – straight past the apartment building that was his destination. In panic, Iceland closed his eyes and pulled the broom handle up with all his might. Cold wind ripped at his hair and clothing, then it stopped. Iceland dared open his eyes.

His broom had stopped only five centimetres away from the wall of a very tall building. Only a few more minutes flying and Iceland would be broom-cake. _Thanks for the four leaf clover, Ireland,_ Iceland thought. He was certain now that the magic of that thing was no hoax. He regretted having been so sceptical when Ireland gave him the thing… Slowly but surely, Iceland turned back around and flew as carefully as he could back to England, shivering from head to toe as he landed. _Never again,_ Iceland promised himself. Nations were not meant to fly on brooms. _Never again._

England didn't even turn around when Iceland landed by his side. He was too busy studying the lock on the balcony door and searching for something in the many pockets of his uniform. Iceland took a second to compose himself after the flight. He was shivering all over.

"Should we knock?" Iceland asked when he felt calm enough to speak.

England shook his head.

"No one is supposed to know about their hiding place," he said. He seemed to have finally found what he'd been looking for. With a look of satisfaction on his face, England pulled out a set of lockpicks on a keychain from inside his jacket. "They won't open – if they hear us at all. It's better if we enter quietly and wake them up separately." That being said, England started fitting the lockpicks into the lock as quietly as he could. The fifth one seemed to be the one and after a little fussing about, a low clicking sound was heard.

Iceland stared.

"Did you just… pick the lock of that door with a very professional looking break-in kit?" he whispered, astonished.

England shrugged.

"Wales keeps losing the house keys, so I might have 'borrowed' the tools from my secret service…" He smirked. "Please don't tell anyone," he whispered, giving Iceland a cheeky wink.

Too surprised to speak, Iceland watched England open the door slowly. England brandished the keychain in front of him – picklocks poking out from between his fingers like a makeshift knuckle buster – and screened the dark room for any threats. It seemed to be the living room, but it was hard to be sure: only the vague shapes of large furniture could be made out in the grey darkness.

Iceland held his breath. He was suddenly very nervous – this was the first time he broke into someone else's home. Not to mention that there were some really easily angered nations staying in this apartment… Russia and Germany came to mind. In fact, the very reason Mr. Puffin had been made to stay behind in England's mansion was because of those two. And America. It was bad enough that Iceland and England, nations that would be easily identifiable, showed up uninvited, but with a complete stranger like Mr. Puffin, things could go very wrong very fast.

After all, everyone was on edge after the war, and some nations were more paranoid than others. In fact, some of the _most_ paranoid nations were, for some strange reason, gathered in this very apartment.

Iceland remembered to breathe again when his body started screaming for air. He was starting to doubt very much the safety of this mission.

"Come on," England whispered. He was far inside the apartment already, gesturing Iceland to follow. Iceland contemplated turning back, snatching a broom and flying back to the mansion. It wasn't too late, not as long as no one had seen them enter the apartment, they could get away with pretending to have never showed up…

_You snivelling coward_, came a dangerous growl from Iceland's mind. _Have you forgotten why we are doing this? Even that obnoxious Englander is gutsier than you, and he has no other reason to be here than losing a bet with you. Onwards!_

Laki was right. Iceland would never be able to live it down if he chickened out now. Hesitantly, he entered the apartment and closed the balcony door behind him. The darkness around him grew thicker when the light of the lampposts outside was shut out. With adrenalin clouding his vision, he noticed the dark figure far too late to warn England.

A tall unrecognizable shadow jumped at England from the dark, quickly wrestling him to the floor. Being the non-militaristic nation Iceland was, his first instinct was to turn around and attempt an escape to the balcony – but thankfully, Laki's instinct took over. Spinning around, Iceland attempted to kick England's attacker in the face. For a second Iceland thought the kick would connect, but strong hands locked around his waist from the side and pulled him further into the apartment.

Iceland could see nothing, only feel the hot breath of his attacker on his neck and hear England thrashing about on the floor, probably trying to struggle free. Iceland didn't struggle. He was too stunned, too afraid, and Laki didn't seem to have the strength to take over again. Iceland allowed himself to be led into another room and tied to a chair. Silently, Iceland cursed his inexperience in fighting and battle.

_This was a bad idea,_ he thought when a rope tugged harshly at the skin on his wrists. _A very bad idea._ He was completely defenceless now. All he could do was to hope that Russia or America or whoever had captured him and England bothered to turn on the lights _before _killing the intruders. When it came to the two superpowers, Iceland had heard of – and in America's case _seen _– some very paranoid behaviour. And the two of them plus some apparent enemies in the same room together? Sounded like a recipe for disaster.

England seemed to have finally been succumbed and was tied to the chair next to Iceland. Footsteps circled around them. Someone patted Iceland down in search of weaponry. Judging by the sound, the same person also patted England down when Iceland had been judged clean. _How can they operate so well in the dark? _Iceland thought. It was almost as if they had rehearsed their reactions to the intrusion. Had they expected visitors?

The lights were turned on, causing Iceland and England to groan loudly from the unexpected brightness. Russia had one hand on the light switch and a gun in the other, aiming it at England's head. Further in the room, aiming his gun at Iceland's head, was someone who bore a cunning resemblance to America, but who was clearly a completely different person… In fact, it was a person that Iceland knew.

"Canada?" Iceland could not hide his surprise. He had been certain that one of the attackers had been America. "You have grown." In fact, he'd grown a lot. The last time Iceland saw Canada, Canada had been the size of a toddler. He was now a fully grown man with a dangerous glint in his eyes.

Canada lowered his gun when he saw who the intruders were. Russia didn't.

"Iceland?" Canada asked, blinking as if he couldn't believe his own eyes, the dangerous glint turning into astonishment. "What are you doing here?"

"I would also like to know," Russia said. "England here I know, but that albino kid… He looks like Prussia." Russia narrowed his eyes. He seemed to not be very fond of Prussia.

"He's not related to Prussia," England tried to explain before the big Russian jumped to any dangerous conclusions. "This kid is Iceland. He's completely harmless and doesn't even know Prussia." For some reason, being told that Iceland was harmless only made Russia more suspicious.

"I don't believe it," he said, moving the aim of his gun to Iceland. "Tell us why you are breaking in. NOW." To further scare the crap out of his captives, he shook his gun demonstratively. "This gun is ready to shoot."

"Whoa, Russia," England said. "Calm down. We come in peace."

Russia narrowed his eyes.

"Why not just knock then?"

It was a very good question. Iceland and England looked at each other. How would they answer?

"We didn't want to wake all of you up," England said. "We were hoping to talk to America, alone, and didn't want to cause a scene. Apparently, we made the wrong choice."

"Apparently," Russia confirmed.

Canada had already put the safety back on his gun and put it in his shoulder strap. He fixed his glasses with a sigh.

"Calm down Russia. It's just England and Iceland," he said. "They're friendly. I'm sure whatever they have to say to America must be important."

"Listen to Canada," England said, watching Russia with pleading eyes. "Just call America over and all will be clear…"

Russia's eyes wandered between each of the three nations before him. He seemed to be contemplating what to do.

"We wouldn't be here if we weren't desperate," Iceland said, hoping his words would help Russia decide. Russia's eyes fixed on Iceland. His jaw clenched, his trigger finger twitched – for a second Iceland thought this was the end. He saw nothing but disbelief in the Russian's eyes. Iceland stared at the barrel of the gun as if he were hypnotized: Time slowed down almost physically… After an eternity of waiting, Russia lowered his gun.

"Canada, you are too kind," Russia said. His gun disappeared somewhere inside his long winter coat. "You shouldn't be so quick to trust." With that, Russia turned on his heel and left the room – hopefully to fetch America. Everyone breathed easier once he was gone.

Canada sent the two intruders an apologetic look.

"He's jumpy," he tried to explain. "This living arrangement hasn't been easy."

Iceland and England nodded.

"Why are you guys all living together?" Iceland asked. He honestly didn't understand. America had often talked to him and Fae about how his dislike for the Russian, and he had also spoken about his anger towards Germany, Prussia and other countries. Why would he and his brother willingly share an apartment with aforementioned nations?

A wry smile crossed Canada's lips.

"Germany and Prussia were brought here to attend the meeting since some of the talking points concern them. Russia and America didn't trust each other to look after them, so they both decided to stay together to keep an eye on the two as well as each other. _I_ was brought along to make sure nobody murdered anyone… And to be honest, I'm not so sure if I can wield the job…" Canada laughed nervously.

"I don't envy you," Iceland said. "America is very strong – and even though I don't really know, Russia looks very strong as well…"

Canada sighed.

"Yeah," he said. "I don't think I could hold either of them back if they seriously decided to kill each other. It took me a while just to overpower England – and I sneak attacked him and everything…"

"Bloody hell," England said, shifting uncomfortably in his bonds. "Was it you who attacked me?" Canada nodded. "You're strong," England complimented. Iceland thought he heard a sense of pride in England's voice. "I see you've been sparring with your brother… That's good."

Canada smiled. He seemed as if he wanted to say something, but held back. When America and Russia appeared at the door, Canada retreated into a corner of the room – immediately everyone present forgot that he even existed.

"Here are your guests," Russia said, not even glancing at the American. "They say they want to talk to you. I trust you can handle it?"

America nodded. He didn't look at Russia either. Instead, the two of them preferred to turn their backs at each other, staring in front of them while they spoke. _Wow,_ Iceland thought. _Talk about the cold shoulder…_ He wondered what had happened to make the two behave so coldly towards one another. Sure, America had told him stories about how Russia drank a lot of vodka and was very rude and violent, but Iceland had never been sure if those stories were true or if America was just making them up because he really disliked the nation. During his stay in Iceland, America never really mentioned why he hated Russia so much. After blowing off some steam ranting about stupid, drunk Russians, America usually turned back into his euphoric self and said that they should talk about something more fun.

"I guess it's your turn to look after the brothers," America said to Russia, watching the wall. Iceland guessed he was talking about Prussia and Germany. Russia left the room without replying.

America finally stopped watching the wall and looked at his two prisoners instead. His jaw dropped.

"England? Iceland? What are you doing here?"

This time, it was Iceland who answered the question.

"We came to ask for your help," he said, knowing full well that such an answer would trigger America's hero complex. He was not let down. Immediately, America's astonishment turned into a bright smile and his chest puffed out.

"Of course," America said proudly. "What am I thinking? Of course you are here for that. I'm the hero!"

Iceland and England nodded frantically.

"Would you mind untying us, hero-boy?" England said. "The rope is making me kind of itchy."

"Not a problem," America said.

Iceland felt much better now that he was free. He closed the door to the room to make sure Russia or someone else couldn't walk into the middle of the conversation with America.

"So," America said, taking a seat in the chair England had been tied to. "What can I do for the two of you?"

Iceland went over his plan in his mind again. He had decided, in a joint decision with Laki and Mr. Puffin right before leaving England's mansion, that it would be the best if none of the nations helping him knew about his curse. All they needed to know was that there was a dangerous elven queen on the prowl that had a terrible power over nations… In addition, Iceland had prepared a blatant lie of how Titania planned to take over the world by manipulating nations.

In order to not accidentally say the wrong thing and end up contradicting himself, Iceland went over his story again in his head before answering. He noticed England looking at him strangely and lifted his hand to signal that he was almost ready to answer.

England didn't have the patience to wait.

"I think," England said," Iceland is going through all that trouble asking for help because of that curse he and his companion suffer from."

Iceland's heart skipped a beat. His most precious secret… But how? He had been so careful to not let anyone know! Staring at England with eyes wide open in panic, Iceland's had a hard time believing what he had heard. _My secret… So casually exposed?_

Iceland was even more shocked when America nodded and said:

"I was thinking that as well." Turning to Iceland, America grew sympathetic. "So," he said. "You have finally decided to talk to me about this. I must admit, I am surprised. I had always thought you would come to me about this problem before anyone else. I see you must trust England more than me." There was a hint of accusation in America's tone of voice.

Iceland was too stunned to answer.

"Actually," England said, "he never told me about the curse. I knew about it from before, when he stayed at my house as a young teen. No one could hide a curse this strong from someone like me."

America looked relieved.

"I see," he said. "So Iceland did intend to tell me first. Didn't you, boy?"

Iceland nodded without really knowing what he was being asked. It wasn't until a few seconds later that he realized that he had lied. He hadn't planned on telling America anything. He hadn't planned on telling anyone except his family anything.

This put an entirely new spin on all his previous plans.

_Alþjóð veit ef þrír vita,_ he thought. Everyone knows if three know. It was a saying from his country. If America and England knew about his curse so easily, how long would it be before everyone knew? Wait a minute…

"America?" Iceland said. "How come you know about my curse? Did you sense it as well?"

America shook his head.

"I was pretty close with you and your sister during the war. Of course I noticed something was off. Then I heard Fae's slip of the tongue and it all came together," he explained. Grinning, he added: "Damn, I knew she didn't have some monster moodswings once a month…"

Iceland thought back to the time Fae and America came giggling home from the Christmas party and Fae accidentally mentioned Iceland's curse. America had played the drunken fool perfectly, directing everyone's attention to Mr. Puffin. Iceland should have been more suspicious…

"Why didn't you say anything?" Iceland said.

"Judging by the look of terror on your faces," America answered, "it was information that was important to you. I figured that you would tell me later when you were ready, and I didn't want to upset you, so I acted like I didn't know."

Iceland contemplated that. He guessed, in a way he should have been thankful. Still, his concerns were not calmed in the least.

"Who else knows?" Iceland asked, looking back and forth between America and England.

"I have told no one," America answered immediately.

"Me neither," England said. "But some on my family might have caught on. We have never spoken about it, so I'm not sure."

"Is your family to be trusted?" Iceland asked. He thought about all he knew about the Kirkland family: Scotland got really chatty when he was drunk, but thankfully his accent got stronger with every pint of alcohol he drank so there wasn't any danger of him spilling any secrets in his drunken stupor – after all, no one could understand what he said when he was in full on Scottish-mode. Ireland tended to accidentally say things she didn't mean to say when she was angry or upset, which was often, so she might tell without meaning to – but Iceland had a feeling she was very loyal to her friends and since Iceland had never done anything bad to her he was almost sure to at least not be counted as her enemy. Wales was very quiet and observant and usually spent more time singing or playing instruments or just thinking in silence than actually talking, and the homunculus seemed too much of a rascal to pay attention to anything…

"I think so…" England said, sounding not so entirely sure.

"I think so," Iceland echoed, determined. For some reason, he wanted to trust the Kirklands as much as he wanted to trust his own family. He didn't know why, but there was something about them that made him feel like home.

"Does anyone know on your side?" America asked.

"My family," Iceland said. "They have known for a couple of centuries."

America folded his legs.

"You seem to have suffered from this for a long time," he said. "Why don't we all make ourselves comfortable and you tell us what happened."

Iceland nodded.

"It was a long time ago," he began.

* * *

Iceland told America and England a shorter, less emotional version of his story than he had told his family. When he had finished, both his listeners were deep in thought. England especially seemed unnerved by the story.

"I have never heard of such a powerful being," he said. "Nothing is supposed to wield such power over national personifications – much less an elf."

"Elves are known for being tricky and having unexplainable powers in my country," Iceland said. "Especially the hidden people."

"In mine as well," England answered. "But over humans, not over us."

"What could we do?" America asked. "This Titania person sounds like a dangerous enemy. She might be a threat. What if she decides to use her power against more nations? Would we be able to stop her?"

No one had an answer to that question. The trio grew silent.

A voice startled them.

"We have to try," Canada said, stepping out from the shadows. America blinked his eyes in surprise.

"Brother," he said. "I didn't see you there."

"You weren't supposed to," Canada answered curtly. Turning to matters at hand, he repeated what he had said before. "We have to try, there must be something we can do against this Titania person. Someone must have information about her. Such a powerful being can't just have appeared out of nowhere…"

"My family has looked everywhere for information," Iceland said. "They have checked secretly with every nation…"

"Maybe secrecy is not the best strategy for this problem…" England began, but was cut off by America.

"No, this must be absolutely secret. What if an enemy nation finds out about that powerful elf and somehow manages to team up with her? We would have nothing to fight against such a force. No one can know about this." America sounded serious. "No one," he repeated, putting much weight into his words.

"But," Iceland tried to argue, "we might need more allies to fight Titania. More nations that know magic, more nations that have experience in dealing with occult beings…"

"Iceland is right," Canada said. "We must gather more people to get the information that we need on Titania. But I also agree with you, brother," Canada said, flashing America a sweet smile. "This information is dangerous, so we should only turn to people that we trust."

"That rules out France and his wandering hands," England muttered.

Canada cocked a brow.

"I think France could well be trusted with this," he said. "Wandering hands is not really a matter of national security."

"You are starting to sound like your brother," England scolded, clearly not happy about France being included in the list of nations to be trusted.

"I think we can safely rule out everyone in the other room," America said, glancing in the direction where the room Germany, Prussia and Russia were staying at probably was. Everyone agreed.

"Should we put together a list tonight and pass notes about a secret meeting to the nations we trust?" Iceland said. He hadn't liked the prospect of not gaining any more allies, so any chance of talking to more nations was welcome to him.

The others thought about this.

"Let's," America said. "Iceland, since you know very little about the nations of the world I suggest you make yourself useful elsewhere. Go to the other room and make sure no one is spying on us. Be especially careful of that commie bastard. Do you understand?"

Iceland nodded. It hurt to be excluded from the planning of his salvation, but he understood the reasoning. Someone must also make sure that no undesirable individuals knew about Titania and her powers. Iceland would do what he had been doing for most of his life: Guarding his secret against others.

* * *

When Iceland entered the small bedroom, everyone seemed preoccupied – which was good since it meant that none of the three had had any time to spy on the secret meeting going on in the other room. The bedroom had two beds in it that stood against opposite walls. In between them there was a comfy lazy-boy chair, half occupied by Russia. The other half of Russia was trying to strangle a white haired nation with red eyes who lay on one of the beds – Prussia, Iceland guessed – while Germany read a big, heavy book that looked suspiciously like a dictionary in the other bed.

Iceland wondered why the German was reading something so utterly boring, but before he had a chance to ask, his presence was noticed by a choking Prussia who desperately kicked him in the thigh.

"Help!" Prussia croaked.

"It is time for you to be finally silent," Russia said through clenched teeth. He seemed to be very irritated by the Prussian. Iceland watched the latter's face turn different shades of blue – when he started turning purple, Iceland finally said something.

"Uh, Russia? Don't you think he's had enough?"

"Not yet," Russia answered. Iceland was sure now that the nation struggling in his grasp was only seconds away from dying. But what could he do? It wasn't as if he could drag the Russian away by force – their difference in size was almost comical. Iceland glanced helplessly at Germany, allegedly Prussia's brother, but Germany only turned a page in his dictionary.

Iceland said the first thing that came to his mind, hoping it would turn Russia's attention away from Prussia.

"If you don't let that man go, I will… I will pick you up and throw you out the window."

It was ridiculous and Iceland knew it, but unfortunately it was out his mouth before he could stop it. Luckily, that statement made Russia loosen his grasp around Prussia's neck and look at Iceland completely astonished.

"Are you threatening me?" he asked, not believing his own ears. "You little country?" The look of befuddlement on his face told Iceland that Russia had a very hard time coping with what he had heard. "But you are so little," Russia said, rising up from his chair and standing very close to Iceland – back straight, so that Iceland may better see his full height.

Iceland cringed. Russia literally towered over him. _I wish I had just let Prussia choke to death,_ Iceland though. He began to sweat and shake when a big hand crushed down on his head, pushing him into the floor.

"Why are you so small?" Russia wondered. "Why are you threatening me? Do you hate me as well?"

"N-no…" Iceland stammered. "I don't even know you."

"Then why do you threaten?" Russia asked. It seemed to bother him a lot more than Iceland had thought it could. He was such a big nation after all.

"I just did it so you would stop killing Prussia," Iceland tried to explain as fast as he could, before his spine snapped in half from the force of Russia's hand. "I didn't really mean it. There's no way I'm able to pick you up, much less throw you out of a window."

Russia leaned his head to one side, humming thoughtfully and staring at Iceland. His grip got tighter.

"You don't hate me?" he asked in a childish, almost vulnerable voice.

_I want to get out of here_! Iceland frantically thought. Clearly, the man in front of him was a lunatic. How could such a scary man go from choking someone into being a big child begging for affection in mere seconds? And attempting to crush Iceland to the ground at the same time? It creeped Iceland out more than words could convey.

Iceland didn't get a chance to answer Russia's question because Prussia, who had miraculously survived Russia's choking, hopped out of bed and ran out of the room coughing and gasping for air. Russia immediately ran after him.

"You did not receive permission to use the bathroom!" Russia yelled. Someone slammed a door. Frantic knocking could be heard. "Prussia? Prussia, come out of there!" Prussia's only answer was a loud series of coughs. Running water could be heard. Russia kept on knocking.

Iceland let himself fall on Prussia's bed and sighed in relief. On the bed beside him, Germany turned another page of his dictionary.

"Why are you reading a…" Iceland leaned to the side to better read the title of Germany's book, "German-German dictionary?"

Germany's eyes stopped mid reading and darted up at Iceland´s question.

"To get… _Ideas_ out of my head," he said. "America said that, until my training is complete, I am not allowed to read anything other than dictionaries, phonebooks and the U.S. Constitution."

Iceland raised his brows.

"That sounds extreme," he said.

The corners of Germany's mouth turned up in a sad smile for a couple of seconds, then his stone-faced expression returned.

"You know the least about extreme," he said. Iceland had no idea what he meant, but Germany didn't seem to want to go into it in detail, so Iceland didn't ask.

Germany started reading again. As he turned to the next page, Iceland wondered what went through that guy's head. According to what America had told him during the American occupation of his country, Germany was the one to start the world war. Both world wars. America also told his island friend to be aware of the nation, that he was more than just a pretty face. And now the German had stopped reading again and was watching Iceland intently, as if he had something to say.

Curious, Iceland leant forward on the bed to better hear what Germany had to say.

"You might actually be able to help me," Germany said, eyes wandering towards the door of the bedroom. Russia was still trying to lure Prussia out of the bathroom, now with eerily sweet offers of hot chocolate and a good ol' Russian lullaby to help him sleep. Naturally, Prussia refused the offers in a hoarse voice, yelling at the Russian to leave him alone.

"Why would I help you?" Iceland asked Germany. "America sais you are not to be trusted."

"I know," Germany said. "I don't even trust myself. But this isn't a favour to me." Again, his eyes were on the door. "It's for my brother. I am worried about him."

_You didn't look worried when Russia was choking him to death, _Iceland thought. Out loud he said:

"And what's in it for me?" He was starting to remind himself of England.

Germany's eyes grew intense. He signalled Iceland to come closer.

"I have information that you need," he whispered. "About your curse. All I will say right now is that the woman you know as Titania is not an elf – and she's far more dangerous than you think. The rest of the information you will get when you rescue my brother from being taken away by Russia."

* * *

_**Author's comments:**__ So… The plot thickens ;). If you guys like, you can post your speculations about what happens next in the comments. Let's see which of you comes the closest to guessing the plot!_

_The reason Austria isn't being held with his brothers is because he claimed to be only an innocent bystander and because he bribed everyone with Sachertorte and Mozartkugeln. Also, the Italy brothers are not present because of reasons. But don't worry, since both Italies are on my list of nations from the voting, they will soon appear!_

_Enjoy the summer guys! I know I am :D._


	14. Germany's Plea

_**Story:**__ Spellbound_

_**Author:**__ ShrapnelGirl_

_**Exclaimer:**__ All Hetalia characters belong to Hidekaz Himaruya._

_**Author's comments:**__ Here's the thirteenth chapter of Spellbound. The next chapter will finally be the world meeting! Hurray! (To tell you guys the truth, the original idea was to have the world meeting be the first chapter… Yeah, this story stretched out quite a bit more than I had planned – and it will most likely continue to grow more and more complicated until we reach the climax)._

_Sorry if this chapter seems a bit chaotic – I just can't bring myself to work on it any more. Don't expect another chapter until September, I'm busy with important uni-stuff._

* * *

_Chapter 13 – Germany's Plea – London, winter of 1946_

Iceland was completely dumbfounded. Had he heard correctly what Germany had said? Titania was not an elf? How would Germany know? And wait…

"You want me to rescue your brother from Russia?" Iceland shook his head in disbelief. "Are you mad?" he half shouted. "I'm practically a micronation! What can I do against…" Quickly, Germany's hand shot forward and covered Iceland's mouth.

"Not so loud," Germany hissed, nodding towards the door. The knocking on the bathroom door had stopped. Iceland and Germany both stared at the bedroom door in silence, waiting for Russia to either barge in or to continue trying to get Prussia to come out of the bathroom. The knocking resumed.

"Prussia?" Russia's voice was turning impatient now. "Get out of there, NOW!"

Sensing that there might not be much time, Germany removed his hand from Iceland's mouth and started talking.

"You can help me precisely because you are small, practically unknown and, most important of all, neutral. If you were to abduct my brother and hide him away no one would suspect you." Germany sat up in his bed and put his book away. His eyes shone with determination. "Listen carefully, Iceland, I will say this only once: Tomorrow – or rather today – Russia will suggest to the Nation Council that Prussia become the representative of East Germany. As such, not only the land but also my brother would be under Soviet control. I need you to convince the other nations to accept my brother becoming the representative of my Eastern area, and to abduct him right after the meeting before Russia has a chance to take him away."

Germany spoke so fast that Iceland hardly understood him. He needed a few seconds to process the information.

"You want me to do WHAT?" he said, not believing his own ears. Germany signalled him to stay quiet.

"I want you to rescue my brother, as I've said. I'm sure you will find a way," Germany said. "But you have to operate alone. I don't care if your allies find out that I hold important information, or that they find out that I helped you – but they can never find out about Prussia being gone or where he is staying or who it was that saved him."

Iceland shook his head, not liking the idea in the least.

"And if someone does find out? And if they are not my friends? Won't this damage my relations with the USSR?"

"Not if you act as if America is behind the whole thing," Germany said. "Russia will be too embarrassed to tell anyone about Prussia being gone. He will act as if Prussia is already under his control, in Moscow, while secretly investigating Prussia's disappearance. He won't suspect you – you have no reason to hide Prussia and you're neutral in most international disputes – and since America will most likely protest to Prussia becoming East Germany, Russia's main suspect will be him."

Iceland hesitated. It seemed like a plan full of speculations to him.

"You think that will work?" he asked. "How can you be sure?"

Germany shook his head.

"You have a lot to learn about international politics, kid," he said. "America and Russia are practically arch-enemies. Russia will not let anyone know that Prussia is gone in the first place because admitting that would be the same as admitting that America outsmarted him… America, not knowing that Prussia is gone, will keep on provoking suspicion from Russia, further strengthening Russia's thought that it was America who took Prussia away. Until the two stop their _Cold War_, which I guarantee won't happen soon, Prussia will be safe. And when I know that everything has gone as planned, I'll tell you everything you want to know."

Iceland's brain was working on overdrive, trying to process all that information. Germany spoke too fast and too compact for Iceland to understand everything right away.

"Let me get this straight," Iceland said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He had only been talking with Germany for a couple of minutes and already he was getting a headache. No wonder America didn't like the blond… "You want me, an unknown newbie, to convince everyone to accept Prussia as East Germany? And then to abduct him? Completely without the help of the other Nordics or anyone else? That's absurd!" Iceland made sure to speak low this time, always keeping one eye on the door. A metallic scratching sound could be heard from behind it. Was Russia picking the bathroom lock?

"You will stand up and argue in favour of Russia," Germany said. "Everyone will think you are only taking a stand to show that you are more than willing to take part in international matters. Your family will most likely support you, seeing as this will be the first international decision you take on your own. I will support you as well, and since I'm Prussia's brother and agreeing with the idea, others will follow behind."

Iceland shook his head. He still didn't understand what was being asked of him.

"But why? Why is it important that Prussia become East Germany?" Iceland asked. "Aren't you Germany? Do you want to be split in half?"

Something flickered in Germany's eyes – a hesitation, or a deep sorrow of some kind. _The eyes are a window to the soul…_ It was something Fae was fond of saying. Iceland had never thought much about that sentence, but for a short time, maybe even less than a second, Iceland thought he had a clear view of the other nation's scarred soul.

"I want to save my brother," Germany said with conviction. "I am willing to make a sacrifice if it guarantees his safety."

"If Prussia becoming East Germany means that he'll be taken away, why not argue for him to stay as Prussia on the meeting?" Iceland asked. "Then he wouldn't need saving. He could just be Prussia."

Germany shook his head.

"The country of Prussia is to be dissolved," he said. "In one year he will be no more. Russia has already voiced his opinion that Prussia's territory should belong to him, and that is should be renamed East Germany."

Iceland's eyes grew wide.

"Dissolved? They are going to dissolve your brother? That's horrible!" Iceland exclaimed. He recalled a time when he himself had wished for nothing more than to move his entire nation to Canada and be dissolved himself. It had been the darkest time in Iceland's life, full of despair and hopelessness. Somehow, hearing of the same thing being forcefully done to another nation immediately invoked his wrath. "I won't let that happen," he said. "I can't let a nation be dissolved!"

"I'm afraid it has to happen," Germany said. He put a hand on the smaller nation's shoulder. A comforting gesture. "Too much has happened. Prussia is to be dissolved for the sake of a united Europe. We cannot stop it – and we mustn't try to."

The way Germany said it… He didn't sound angry or sad. Just tired. Iceland simply couldn't understand. Germany was ready to be split in two to keep his brother alive, but not to stop Prussia from being dissolved in the first place? How could it be necessary for future peace to dissolve a nation entirely?

Seeing Iceland's confusion, Germany decided to change his tactic.

"I've had many brothers disappear before Prussia," Germany explained, moving away from Iceland. "Bavaria, Hessen, Brandenburg, Holstein, Saxony… All my older brothers. I took over their roles, some were taken over by others. It is the way things work on the mainland." A look of sympathy crossed Germany's face. "You might not understand, being an island and all, but the borders and functions of nations are not set in stone. My country for one has always been a rather complicated one. But that's not what I wanted to tell you."

Germany paused briefly, focusing on the bedroom door. When he was sure that Russia was still occupied with trying to get into the bathroom, he continued. "When a national personification retires its role, it begins to disappear. The process is slow, but inevitable. For a long time I lived in a house full of half-gone brothers and sisters. I still wake up in the middle of the night, finding one of my siblings hanging lifeless and still in the air, transparent like a ghost, just looking at me."

Iceland felt a shiver creep up his back.

"That's horrible," he said. He had always imagined that nations disappeared immediately after they stopped being nations – he kinda wished he had never heard the truth.

"Then you might understand why I can't allow that to happen to Prussia," Germany said. "I don't want him to mope around the house, losing his personality, growing more and more transparent with each day. That is what will happen if he doesn't become East Germany after he's been dissolved. But I can't allow him to be taken away by Russia either, not after everything that's happened… He's my family. We've been through so much together. I can't…" Germany lost his voice. He took a few seconds to regain his composure. Instead of continuing where he had left of, Germany picked up his dictionary again and opened it. His eyes moved back and forth, reading down the random page the book had opened on.

_This guy is broken,_ Iceland thought. As soon as Germany realized he was getting emotional, Iceland had seen fear in his eyes. Not just fear – terror. Now he was focusing on his book, a dry dictionary, trying to suppress all the feelings he had for his brother. _Just like me with my curse, trying hard not to love anyone lest they be hurt,_ Iceland thought.

He knew Germany had been in wars, but he didn't know much more. Foreign wars had never interested Iceland – he'd been too occupied and isolated through the centuries to care much about what happened in other countries. Now he wished he knew what had happened to so thoroughly break the nation in front of him. Iceland's heart went out to the tragic blond. Maybe because he saw so much of his own suffering in the other – maybe because America's hero complex had somehow rubbed onto him. Forgetting about how small and powerless he was, Iceland made his decision.

"I will save your brother," Iceland said. Germany didn't look up from his book, but Iceland could see from his still eyes that he was listening. "I'll do what I can at the meeting to convince the others of agreeing with Russia when he suggests that Prussia become East Germany. Afterwards, I'll snatch Prussia away and hide him somewhere where he can live a comfortable and safe life. Instead, you'll tell me what you know about Titania. Do we have a deal?"

Iceland stared intently at the German's face, waiting for an answer. He grew nervous when Germany didn't say anything. A sudden thought made Iceland cold with fear. Could Russia be standing at the door? Had he heard everything?

Purple eyes darted towards the door, but there was no one. Metallic scratching could again be heard from the bathroom door. Russia was still trying to pick the lock. Phew. The metallic scratching stopped.

"Damn it," Russia swore. "You just stay there if you want to," he yelled. "It's not like you can escape from here – my men will catch you before your feet touch the street. So just spend the night in the bathroom if you like, I'm going back to my comfortable chair." Russia hit the door one more time, making Iceland jump from the sudden loud bang, then his footsteps neared the bedroom.

Iceland stood up from the lazy-boy chair, eyeing Prussia's bed. Should he lie down and pretend to be asleep? Russia could not know that Iceland had been talking to Germany – he would grow suspicious. Just as the door began to open and Iceland was going to jump into the bed, Germany turned the dictionary around, showing it to Iceland. He had placed a finger under a certain word.

_Danke._

He turned the dictionary almost immediately and started reading it again. Iceland jumped into Prussia's bed the second Russia opened the door. Facing the wall, Iceland remained completely still, pretending to be asleep.

"Your brother makes me very mad," Russia said, letting himself fall into the lazy-boy chair. "He needs to be disciplined." When he got no answer, Russia could be heard rummaging around in a bag of some sorts. A short while later, the rhythmic sound of knitting needles tapping together filled the room.

The absurdity of that big man sitting in his big chair, knitting, somehow calmed Iceland down. His beating heart slowed down and as the suspense of the last few hours left his body, Iceland became aware of the fact that he hadn't slept since the night before, back when he was still in his home country. There were only a few hours until the meeting. Iceland had to somehow figure out how to get everyone to accept Prussia as the new East Germany, and then steal Prussia away from his guardian at the meeting…

Tap tap tap. The steady rhythm of the knitting needles continued. Tap tap tap. Before Iceland knew it, he had fallen asleep.

* * *

The next morning, Iceland awoke to someone gently shaking his shoulder.

"Iceland… Iceland, wake up."

Iceland jolted awake with the terrible feeling of being late, or having forgotten something. When he saw Canada's calm face though, Iceland realized that it was probably just the nervousness in his body that made him feel like that. Immediately, his promise to Germany came to mind.

"What time is it?" Iceland asked. "Are we leaving?"

Canada smiled and ruffled Iceland's hair.

"I'm not so evil as to wake you up the minute we are supposed to leave," he said, laughing. "We have an hour. You should get up and take a shower. I made pancakes for breakfast… I advise you to eat in the other room. America and England want to talk to you."

_An hour,_ Iceland thought. He had an hour to get ready for the meeting - and to think of a way to keep his promise of saving Prussia.

Stretching his limbs and yawning loudly, Iceland felt the last remnants of sleep leaving his body. A thick woollen blanket covered him completely and kept him warm. Wool? Iceland recalled Russia having been knitting last night. Could the big, scary nation have draped a home-made woollen blanket over Iceland, even after Iceland threatened him? Iceland shook his head. That didn't make any sense. Russia was bad – America always said so – and therefore it must have been someone else covering Iceland with the blanket. Maybe Germany? Or even America…

_Why am I even thinking about this? _Iceland thought. _It doesn't matter. What matters is to get ready for the meeting._

Something tugged at Iceland's sleeve when he sat up, protesting him leaving the bed. When Iceland looked down, he saw a fluffy, white polar bear staring at him with big shiny eyes, half covered by the woollen blanket. A distant memory of something warm and fluffy having crawled into his arms during the night came to Iceland. He recalled hugging that thing and dreaming of it being Mr. Puffin from a time before he turned human.

"So that's where he was," Canada said, reaching over Iceland to pick the polar bear up. Placing it on his lap, Canada nuzzled the bear happily. "He's been missing you," Canada said. "He's kept asking where you were ever since you left."

At first Iceland didn't know what Canada was talking about. His mind was full of Germany and Prussia and how Russia was going to bash his head in with a balled fist when Iceland got caught trying to sneak Prussia out of the conference room. Finally, something clicked and Iceland understood what Canada was talking about.

The old days. The days back when Iceland was a new nation. It was after the war with the elven kingdom, before Titania had returned and put Iceland under her curse. A melancholic time that Iceland had spent learning how to be a nation, getting to know Norway and the rest of the Nordics and inventing a new system of governing his nation that worked for him. Back then his land had needed neither a government nor a king, everyone was free and equal and Iceland dreamt of being a good Viking like his brother and to discover new lands. He set out with a few good men, finding Greenland, but that wasn't enough. Again he sailed, this time finding the legendary land made of wine he named Vinland…

Only it wasn't Vinland – it was Canada.

Iceland had been surprised to find a nation living in a land that seemed to belong to many different tribes. Norway had taught him that nations weren't born in tribal lands until the tribes were ready to work together as one – and that did not seem to be the case with the tribes Iceland encountered in the new land. What was even stranger was that little Canada was pale as a ghost whereas most of his people had darker skin.

When Iceland asked the kid what tribe he belonged to, the kid led him to the north, to an area covered in snow. There he crawled into a hole in the ground. Iceland followed. And froze. A large polar bear mother lay sleeping in the hole, hugging a cup tight against her. Canada had crawled under the mother's arms as well and lay snugly against his sibling.

"Home," little Canada said, smiling happily.

Later on, when Iceland had started to understand some of the local people's languages, he learned that the locals did indeed call Canada the "Boy of the Great White Bear." They believed that the boy was the guardian spirit of polar bears and that he had been sent to earth from the spirit world to protect polar bears and humans from each other. Some of the indigenous tribes had laws about not killing polar bears, others worshipped them as the kings of the Frozen Lands.

One thing was clear to Iceland. The boy was no spirit. He was a national personification and Iceland seemed to be the first nation that boy ever met. The little boy, lovingly nicknamed Björn by the Icelanders, seemed to feel the connection as well. He followed Iceland around wherever he went – cried when Iceland sailed back to his island to the east and ran laughing into his arms when Iceland returned the next summer. For many years it continued that way.

Iceland began to grow attached to the little boy. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Iceland began to hope that maybe the little nation had been born because Iceland was there, and that maybe the reason he looked a bit like Iceland was because they were family. Maybe brothers, maybe father and son.

Iceland began to encourage his people to stay in Vinland. He had high hopes for the land. Why shouldn't he have? After all, a national personification had already been born there, a happy little nation that looked like Iceland and followed him more thoroughly than his own shadow.

Then the peace was over and Iceland realized that it would not be him to branch out to the new nation. Titania appeared in the winter, changing Iceland's life forever. Directly following, Iceland's people started fighting among themselves for power, the new system of government Iceland had invented and was so proud of crumbled in on itself, volcanoes erupted… Everything got out of hand. Eventually, Iceland had to crawl back to his brother, to good old Norge, and beg him to take over the land. Iceland lost his independence.

He would never sail back to Vinland, never again see the little boy who lived with the polar bears and whom he had started to regard as family.

And now Canada was there. Sitting right in front of him with a big warm smile, his brother bear sitting in his lap. All grown up. How could Iceland have forgotten him? Had he really been so occupied with his own problems that he had completely forgotten the little boy he had once held so dear?

"Björn…" Iceland said, reaching a hand out to touch Canada's face, as if he couldn't believe it was the same person.

Something shimmered in Canada's eyes. He pulled the polar bear cub against his chest and stood up.

"You won't get any pancakes until you've taken a shower," Canada said. "You should hurry before America and England get impatient. My brother especially doesn't like waiting." And he was out the door.

Iceland lay back down, dazed. How could he have forgotten Canada? When he first heard that the land to the west of him had been settled and named, how had he not connected that to the memory of the little boy in Vinland? How had Iceland gone on through the years without thinking at least once about the little nation he had once hoped to make his family? Had the curse erased his memory, erased the association?

He'd been frozen for years… Iceland sat up. For years he hadn't felt anything but dread. All other feelings he kept at bay... No. All other feelings were kept from him. His personality had been split in half, locking all feelings of anger, sorrow, humiliation and disappointment deep inside of him, only letting them out at full moon. Had the memories been locked away as well?

How else could Iceland not have remembered little Björn? For centuries Canada had kept sending his agents to Iceland, encouraging the Icelandic people to move to his lands, to flee the dangers of the volcanic island. Whenever a great disaster struck, Canada had immediately offered asylum to Iceland's people. Now Canada even had places like New Iceland and Gimli that were full of West Icelanders.

When Iceland became independent, Canada had been the only non-family member to write a long, thorough letter of congratulations. Why had that not stirred any memories?

And why did they stir now?

_Silly boy,_ Laki said. _Why are you thinking so hard about something so trivial? We have a mission to complete! Or do you already have a plan on how you can keep your promise to Germany?_

Iceland lowered his brows.

_Did you lock away those memories?_ he asked the voice in his mind.

Laki chuckled.

_Take a shower,_ he advised. _Talk to America and England. The sooner you get it over with, the more time you'll have to prepare for the meeting._

He disappeared.

Was that the sting of betrayal that Iceland felt somewhere deep in his soul? Or just the faint pain of suspicion?

* * *

Canada's pancakes were the best Iceland had ever tasted. They melted in his mouth and ran sweet and tender down his throat. Before Iceland had taken the first bite he had wondered how Russia, Germany and Prussia could all sit together at the kitchen table and eat in perfect silence, without so much as sneering at each other, but now he knew. Everyone had simply been too preoccupied with eating those glorious pancakes.

Only America and England seemed to be immune to their delicacy. England because he was taste-blind, according to his siblings, and America, maybe, because he got those pancakes regularly.

"Here's the list," America said, slamming a paper down next to Iceland's plate of pancakes. It was a list of nations neatly written in America's own, sort of childish, handwriting. Iceland skimmed over it while he ate.

The list of trustworthy nations was disappointingly short. At the head of the list, of course, there were Iceland, England, America and Canada. Following were the names of all of England's siblings, the Nordics, France, the two Italies, Turkey, the Netherlands and Belgium.

Seeing so few names, Iceland's heart sank.

"Those are the only ones we can trust?" he asked.

England and America nodded. Both of them seemed really tired. They had probably been debating and arguing that list all night – crossing almost everyone off of it.

"Those are the only nations we trust not to immediately misuse the information about a powerful elven queen," England said. "And also the ones we believe are willing to help without asking for more in return than we are ready to pay…"

"It's better if not too many people know about this," America cut in. "Too many people wagging their tongues could be disastrous. The secret would leak out too fast for us to control it."

"How about Greece? Spain? China? And others?" Iceland asked.

"Greece is… fighting communist tendencies," America answered. "Spain is a dictatorship. Those two are definitely out of the question."

"And China?" Iceland asked.

"Financially, morally and physically drained after the war," America said. "He's got enough on his plate."

"He knows ancient magic," Iceland said. "Even if nothing else, his wisdom might me valuable. Norway has always speculated that China might know something about Titania's origin."

Hesitating, America added China to the list of trustworthy people, and _Guidance_ in brackets beside the name.

"Any other changes you'd like to make on the list?" America asked, a little annoyed.

Iceland had no choice but to shake his head. He knew shamefully little about the other nations in the world. How could he know whom to trust and whom not to trust? Beside the names Norway and the other Nordics had thrown around during their discussions about the curse, Iceland could only trust the judgement of his friends.

Still, he skimmed the list again, feeling that something was missing. The third time reading the list, Iceland finally realized what it was.

"Romania is not on the list," he said, looking up at the two tired nations. "Why is Romania not on the list? He's supposed to have really strong magic. We could use that against Titania."

America scoffed.

"Romania is under Soviet control," he said, as if that explained everything.

It didn't explain anything to Iceland.

"And?" Iceland said. "He's still got powerful magic. He might be the most important nation to ever go on the list!" Iceland rose from his seat and slammed a hand down on the list, causing England and America to startle. "Out of all the nations on the list, the only ones with experience in magic are Norway, Greenland, England and possibly China," Iceland explained. "Titania cannot be beaten with modern technology or normal battle strategies. I've already discussed those options with my family. What we need are powerful wielders of magic – and although Norway claims to be a stronger magician than England, even he admits that what Romania is packing is much stronger. Gentlemen, we simply cannot go to war against a powerful elf without Romania."

Was that recognition in America's eyes? Iceland started shaking a little and sat back down on his chair. He had never talked so decidedly to anyone before, much less two nations that could pummel him into a hamburger in milliseconds.

He'd have to get used to that decidedness. After all, Iceland had promised to make a stand at the world meeting today – supporting Russia's notion of Prussia becoming East Germany.

"Norway said he was stronger than me?" England said, blinking his eyes is wonder. Iceland was going to answer something sarcastic in annoyance, but England regained his composure before Iceland could think of anything. "Romania allegedly has very strong magic, but those are just speculations, rumours and legends. Romania swore off magic centuries ago. Now he claims to have forgotten everything he once knew." England sounded a bit sad at that. "Believe me, I've tried to get him to show me his magic, but he always flat out refuses. Getting Romania on our team, even if he wasn't under Soviet control, is hopeless."

"You've heard it, kiddo," America said. "Forget about Romania. The magic we already have will have to do."

"Also," England added, "you forgot about Wales, Scotland and Ireland. Each of them has their own special kind of magic and magical beings. Ireland especially is a specialist when it comes to elves, fairies, leprechauns and banshees."

That brightened Iceland's mood a little bit.

"You think Ireland could know something about Titania?" he asked.

England smiled.

"It doesn't hurt to ask her," he said. "We can talk to her tonight after the meeting. We have decided to invite everyone on the list over to my place around dinner time tonight and discuss the _Elven Problem_ when everyone is relaxed."

Iceland nodded.

"That sounds good. The sooner we discuss this, the better."

He'd need to be really quick saving Prussia though… But Iceland already had an idea where to take Prussia after he successfully managed to sneak the nation away from Russia: To England's house. There Iceland would hand Prussia over to Mr. Puffin who would be charged with transporting the nation to Fae, who would definitely take care of Prussia if Iceland asked her to.

The plan was perfect. All Iceland would have to do was to play it by the ear at the meeting and look for a chance to sneak Prussia away. If all else failed, he'd ask the other Nordics to distract Russia, or start and argument between Russia and America – that was sure to do the trick.

Then, when Mr. Puffin and Prussia were safe on the way to Iceland's home, Iceland would pay a visit to Germany and get the information on Titania.

_It all ends tonight,_ Iceland thought. _All my allies will gather tonight and I will receive the long awaited information about Titania. The war is about to start…_

Iceland was so excited that he completely forgot about one important thing: Tonight was a full moon. Preoccupied with thoughts of sweet victory over his hated elven queen, Iceland misinterpreted Laki's laughter as excitement.

* * *

_**Author's comments:**__ In my headcannon, "mother" Russia is has very strong maternal instincts and that's why he put the blanket over Iceland – not because he particularly likes the little nation that looks like Prussia, but because he figured that sleeping without a blanket in winter might give the kid a cold. Russia's dream is to grow strong enough to not only take care of himself but also to take care of everyone around him – it's fate's cruelty that his tries always backfire horribly. Anyway, that's my headcannon for now. You might want to keep it in mind, because this may play a part in Spellbound later on._

_Now for some history:_

_Between 1944 and 1958, Romania was occupied by the Soviet Union. That's why any negotiations with Romania would have to go through Russia – and why America will do whatever he can do make Iceland forget the idea of gaining Romania as an ally._

_Prussia was officially abolished on the 25__th__ of February 1947 and the Soviet controlled former Prussian territories became East Germany in 1949._

_Also, Germany having many older brothers (and maybe sisters) other than Prussia is cannon in Hetalia. It is ambiguous how many are still alive and how many have disappeared already, so I imagine that Germany's house is full of half-gone and transparent siblings that are constantly trying to influence him – and he does not want his most annoying brother to join the chorus. Thus the deal with Iceland. Also, Russia's revenge on Prussia would be brutal, and Germany wants to spare his brother the pain if he can._

_Cy'all next chapter folks!_


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